The Disappearance of Molly Hooper
by brookenado
Summary: The Sherlock gang find themselves up to their usual mischief, albeit as students at Hogwarts. Molly Hooper has some sort of secret and her disappearances don't go unnoticed by the ever observant Sherlock Holmes. The 5th year Slytherin is not about to let this mystery pass him by as he enlists the help of his ever present counterpart, John Watson, to solve the case. Sherlolly focus
1. Chapter 1

Something out of the ordinary was going on

_Yes, something is peculiar, and by Mycroft's umbrella I will find out. Solving mysteries…it is what I do best after all- well, that's not quite right. It's more of a toss up between that and everything I do._

A hand waved obtrusively in front of Sherlock's face. "Sherlock. Hellooo. Don't tell me you're in your 'mind palace' again…" John Watson frowned and sat down next to Sherlock when his antics got no response. As he set about filling his plate with this and that for breakfast, he looked over at his companion again. Best mates since the (admittedly rather unfortunate) incident at the end of his second year at Hogwarts (Sherlock's first), the sixth year Gryffindor still had trouble at times understanding his Slytherin counterpart.

_What is she up to? I've been observing her for a month now and still I cannot work out her motives. Where does she disappear off to? And to think that she, of all people, has been able to evade me for so long. Every evening, without fail, she just disappears. What could she possibly be doing?_

John looked up at his friend again – _and observed_, as Sherlock would say – and noticed that Sherlock's eyes were not unfocused but moving slightly every now and then with an unwavering focus on something across the hall. _Hmm_.

Following his line of vision, John saw nothing out of the ordinary that could have caught the Slytherin's keen eye. "Sherlock, what are you looking at?"

Silence.

"Give it up, mate, you're not in your 'mind palace'!" Air quotes followed this particular phrase, as per usual. "I know you're focusing on something in the room. You don't have that glazed eye look going on, and I've seen your eyes move. So go on, what's caught your attention this time?"

Sherlock blinked and shifted his eyes to left to focus on his friend. "Oh very good John, very good." A 'you are this close from being punched in the face' glare effectively wiped the facetiously cheerful smile off Sherlock's face. He huffed.

_I may as well tell him. Perhaps John even knows something. He is somewhat friendly with her after all. And they've known each other for some time having attended the same muggle primary school._

Sherlock looked away, back to his previous point of interest. "Molly."

"What?"

"I am looking at Molly." So intent was Sherlock's focus that he missed the sly grin that transformed John's expression into one of pure mischief.

"Hm, finally noticing her, are we?" John nodded sagely, looking for all the world like the wisest wizard to walk the earth.

"I have always _noticed_ her, John." Sherlock remarked.

"Oh. Gotcha. So. Finally going to make a move then, huh?" A pair of waggling eyebrows replaced the nodding.

This seemed to catch Sherlock's attention and he looked back towards John with an expression somewhere between bored and confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on," John elbowed Sherlock playfully as he teased him. "You know."

A frank stare was all he received for that comment. "There are few things I do not understand, but whatever it is you are suggesting, John, is one of them."

"Seriously. No really, seriously? I give up!" John threw up his arms and rubbed his face. "Ok, so if you're still that daft, what are you staring at her for?" His inner matchmaking streak was set aside for his mounting curiosity. (Secretly, John had been rooting for the two of them to become an item for the past year.)

Once more Sherlock looked back at the table where Molly sat, only to see she had gone. "Have you noticed anything amiss about Miss Hooper lately, John?"

John thought about it, but couldn't pick out anything in her recent behavior to suggest something being 'amiss'. "Can't say that I have."

"Clearly you are not so observant as you think. Miss Hooper…_Molly_…has been disappearing every evening for nearly the past four weeks. She is returned by morning, of course, unharmed and not a soul the wiser for it – except for me, of course."

"_Of course_." John mimicked his friend. "It _is_ unlike Molly to break school rules though…" John added as an after thought.

"Indeed. She's always alone as well, no _Greg_ to be found."

"Yeah, well, maybe she's sneaking off to see him."

"Don't be ridiculous John." Sherlock frowned at the suggestion.

"I'm not being ridiculous! Is it that far of a stretch to think that maybe she's seeing someone?" John was beginning to feel exasperated with the whole situation.

"Yes."

"Oh, it's that simple is it? She's pretty, she's smart, maybe a little on the quiet side…bit quirky. But she's about the nicest person you'll meet." He was beginning to trail off. "Huh, you know, maybe I should ask her out…"

"John, this is a serious matter. I need you to focus and stop being so hideously ordinary for one minute!" Sherlock simply received a smirk in return. "As far as I've been able to deduce, she doesn't meet up with anyone inside the castle. She just disappears. Clearly she hasn't told Greg due to his absence at her side." He seemed to hesitate for a second. "Besides, _if_ she was seeing someone, why would she have any reason to hide a relationship? Aside from the fact that her taste in men is atrocious, that is."

At that John mumbled a, "Oh I'll second that" in a gruffer voice than usual. He had never approved of his friend's manipulations with Molly. Yet, unfathomable as it was to him, it was obvious that Molly fancied Sherlock. Sherlock glared in return. Further thought on the matter gave John pause to hesitate. "You're absolutely sure about this, though, Sherlock? You haven't been mixing potions experimentally again, have you? Remember the last time that happened and the fumes got to your head-"

"I'd rather not, thank you John."

John snickered before becoming serious again. "But seriously, Sherlock, you are absolutely sure about this?"

"Yes, John," Sherlock rolled his eyes. "My observations are highly accurate, are they not?"

"Yeah, but there's always something…"

"Always something trivial, John, always something trivial. Now, I propose that you confront her about it. See what you can find out." Sherlock was decisive as always.

"Wait, wait, wait! Why me? Not that I don't mind talking to her, but I don't think strolling up to her and initiating a conversation with her about her evening whereabouts is going to go over all that well – even with Molly!" John went on to mimic the scenario going on in his head, falsetto voice and all.

"'Hey Molly!' 'Oh, hello John.' And she'll give a little smile and then, 'I have a question for you.' 'Ok, ask away.' 'Where are you going every night? I mean Sherlock's been following you and said something about sneaking off…' Yeah, that's going to be a fantastic conversation."

"Subtlety, John. Though I suppose that's never been a prized trait of Gryffindor." John scowled and turned back to his food, in no mood to do Sherlock's bidding if he was going to start throwing around House insults.

"Just talk to her John." John was looking intently at a peculiarly shaped rasher he had picked up.

_Well there was that famous 'pride' that so defined John's House._

"Please John." Nothing. Sherlock was still losing to the rasher. _Fine, if this is how he wants to do it, fine. Let's really play the House traits game._ "I'm worried about her. She has a difficult enough time saying 'no' and she's far too gullible. Is it that much of a stretch to worry she has been coerced into doing something dangerous?" _Ha! See if you can refuse that Mr. Chivalry._

John dropped the rasher and sighed. Honestly, he'd been thinking the same thing. Though he does know something Sherlock doesn't – Molly Hooper is much more resilient than Sherlock knows. Just not when it comes to Sherlock. Still, Sherlock does have somewhat of a case. Molly is known to have a hard time refusing anyone who asks for help.

He released heavy breath as he came to a decision. _ John Hamish Watson, what are you getting yourself into this time?_ "Fine. I'll see what information I can gather."

Sherlock grinned in triumph. His curiosity was piqued and now he just had to solve this mystery. _The mystery of Molly Hooper_. The absurdity of the situation and actions that were so decidedly _not_ Molly Hooper had formed to what, in Sherlock's mind, had become a decidedly 'not dull' case.

"I'd better head off to the greenhouses though before I'm late. I'll see you later, Sherlock." With that John downed the remainder of his pumpkin juice, grabbed his rucksack, and strode out of the Great Hall.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone who has expressed interest in this story so far! Onward and forward to chapter 2 to meet Molly and Lestrade. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own neither Sherlock or Harry Potter, the rights to the characters and settings go to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Stephen Moffat, Mark Gatiss, and J.K. Rowling.

Molly Hooper was enjoying her breakfast in a comfortable silence with Greg Lestrade, as per usual. It was a Monday morning, looked to be of a dreary day if the Great Hall ceiling was anything to go by, and it was back to classes for the week. Going through a mental checklist of the things she had prepared for the day, her thoughts were interrupted by her friend.

"He's doing it again, Molly. I don't like it, what's he playing at?" The Hufflepuff Head Boy was gazing with narrowed eyes past Molly to where a certain curly haired, prat of a Slytherin was intently focused on the back of a certain young Ravenclaw sitting across from him.

Though he was a seventh year and she a fifth year, the two had fallen into a natural friendship during Greg's third year at Hogwarts. An incident (a rather unfortunate one, actually) had forced an abrupt acquaintance between himself and Miss Hooper, though he quickly found that he quite liked her as a person.

Molly looked up from her plate and raised an eyebrow at Greg. "If it's Sherlock you're talking about…"

"Of course I'm talking about Sherlock! He has been checking you out, and very intently I might add, _all_ _week_." He continued to mumble about the youngest Holmes, of which Molly could pick up on a few choice grumbled words, before he realized his unfortunate choice of phrase before his mate.

'Checking you out' was in somewhat poor taste, knowing of Molly's…situation. In spite of her reddened face she managed to give him a look, or what Greg had dubbed '_that_ look'.

"Come on, Molly, don't give me _that_ look. He's never treated you right and I don't know why you insist on sticking up for his ungrateful arse." In turn, Greg gave Molly his own look – the one that said, 'Go on, explain that. Tell me I'm wrong, I dare you.' (Though Molly's phrasing had been something more akin to 'Lie to me and I'll throw your arse in detention with Filch for a week.')

"If you must know, Greg, it's because his ungrateful arse is also a rather _nice_ arse." Molly grinned mischievously and stuck out her tongue at the now eye-rolling, gagging Greg Lestrade.

One of the things Molly was most grateful for was _the incident_ (the one none of them talk about anymore) during her first year at Hogwarts, a world so unfamiliar to her as a Muggleborn. It was that event which had brought Greg Lestrade into her life. Though they had been friends for the remainder of that year, it wasn't until midway through the following year that their friendship was truly solidified.

An undeserved, abhorrent break up between Greg and his then girlfriend had ultimately led the two to a deeper understanding and the type of closeness one only shares with a sibling or best mate.

Though more often than not Greg hardly left her side, there was one point of contention between them: Sherlock Holmes. While Greg did begrudging like the Slytherin as a whole - though he'd only ever said it out loud once, to her, perhaps while a little intoxicated, and under extreme pressure (so he claims) - he didn't approve at all of the way Sherlock manipulated Molly (the Slytherin bastard).

Using someone, especially a person as unassumingly kind and genuine as Molly Hooper, and especially when taking advantage of deep set (so what if Sherlock had no clue how deep), uncontrollable emotions was just downright, morally wrong. He just wished that Molly could be as confident as she was with him around Sherlock.

"He just, he doesn't deserve you Molly. Not when he's such a complete bastard."

"You know why I do. Stick up for him, I mean." Molly spoke quietly, angling her head down so she couldn't look her friend in the eye.

Greg sighed. "I know," And he empathized with her, knew exactly what it was like. "I know." He repeated wistfully. Each took a few more bites of food, but with far less enthusiasm than when they had entered the Great Hall for breakfast.

"Come'on, I'll walk you to Charms on my way to the Dungeon." Molly nodded back with a small smile and gathered her things quietly. The Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw walking side by side was a familiar sight to those around them.

"Double potions today, ugh!" Greg exclaimed as they walked away from the other students eating.

"Hey, I'll switch with you any day!" Molly replied equally miserably as they rounded a corner past the Great Hall. She may be a Ravenclaw with an eager and curious mind, but Molly was quick to find that certain subjects just held little appeal for her. She only hoped that this time around her first lesson of the week would be as embarrassment free as possible as she walked away with Greg.

Molly internally snorted at the thought. Yeah, right. Who was she kidding? Charms was with the Slytherins. She was partners with Sherlock Holmes. It was going to be bloody awful.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey readers! First of all, I have to apologize for the delayed update. I just graduated from college on Saturday and have been extremely busy for the last week with final goodbyes to friends and the campus, packing, entertaining, and cleaning (oh my gosh, the cleaning!). But now I'm back home and have finally found time to finish this chapter. I will do my best to update regularly between the job search and organizing my stuff. Now enough about my life, onward to our favorite pathologist and detective! And thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and followed this story - you guys are great!**

_She disappears, yet she doesn't have any signs of sleep deprivation beyond her normal physical appearance. Odd._

"Um, uh, alright there, Sherlock?" Molly's voice interrupted his thoughts. As Sherlock refocused on his surroundings, his eyes found themselves staring directly into a pair of brown ones.

He leaned back into his own space and answered with a brusque, "Fine." _Of course, her charms work does seem to be suffering more than usual of late. This could very well be attributed to the expense of energy of her nightly escapades…_

"Right. Good, that's…good." Molly finished lamely while nodding her head with embarrassing vigor. Her face began turning a shade of red as she felt a growing desire to drop said face against the desk and simply stay that way until the hour passed. She had no illusions about the kindness of the fates, however. There would be no such luck for Molly Hooper.

Instead, Molly turned her attention to the head of the room as this week's lesson began. The class had broken up into partners about three weeks ago to work on more advanced Charms. They would remain with their partner for the rest of the unit until the Christmas Holiday.

At lunch Molly recounted her morning with Greg as they ate before the afternoon block of classes.

"I'm an absolute _moron_!" Molly exclaimed. "I bet he wonders every time we practice together how in the hell I was placed in Ravenclaw. Ha!" She pushed her plate to the side and proceeded to drop her head into her arms in defeat.

"Wow, sounds worse than the usual." Molly raised her head the slightest bit to set her narrowed eyes upon Greg as he drawled. "So what happened then?"

"Oh, I'm just being dramatic. I'm sorry Greg."

"No, no, none of that. No apologizing, remember? You're allowed to be dramatic every now and then Molly, let off some steam – it's good for you."

Molly sighed and propped her chin on her arms to speak. "I completely botched up the charm and made a total fool of myself." Molly paused with a grimace as she recalled what had happened.

"One minute I'm listening to the professor and taking notes, the next all of that flies out the window as I stutter my words and wreak havoc upon the room."

"Well, bollocks Molly. You couldn't have used your havoc wreaking abilities in Potions this morning to get me out of a pop-potion making session? Some friend you are…" For his efforts Greg received a weakly protesting push on his arm and a small smile in return.

"Aw, come on Molly. It can't have been that bad." Greg's assurance was met with a telling pause.

"Well. I might have kind of, sort of, accidentally …" Molly was cut off when another fifth year, a Gryffindor named Sally Donovan, sat down enthusiastically next to Greg.

"Molly, I heard you destroyed the Charms classroom!" Sally leaned forward as she talked animatedly.

"You what?!" Greg seemed torn between having a fit of giggles and generally looking astonished. "Molly Hooper, destroy anything? Impossible!"

Molly just shrugged in confirmation and dropped her head against her arms repeatedly. "Just kill me now." She groaned miserably before continuing to mumble to the table.

"We were practicing the releasing charm and my pronunciation at one point was just complete rubbish because I'm partners with Sherlock bloody Holmes!" A noise of frustration followed shortly after her statement. "I'm still not certain of exactly what happened, but the next thing I know after casting the spell is that it somehow turned into a disaster. Whatever it was that happened caused every object in room to start flying and smashing into the walls!"

Once more Molly's head came up so Greg and Sally could see her. "At least I managed not to send anyone to the hospital wing. Somehow."

Greg let out a low whistle as Sally grinned. "Brilliant," was the sentiment she settled on.

At that moment Molly caught Sherlock's eye as he passed their table to leave the hall. She was sure her face had never turned such a unique shade of red. "There _must_ be a way to disillusion myself for the rest of my life. Greg?" She looked pleadingly into the Hufflepuff's eyes.

Greg just laughed good naturedly and patted her arm. "I'm sure by dinner talk will have turned to the newest gossip," he reassured her.

"Yeah," Sally jumped with a genuine smile. "Seriously, I wouldn't worry about it."

The three continued to chat amiably until their next classes, Molly and Sally heading to Transfiguration together while Greg was heading outside for his Care of Magical Creatures lesson.

As Sherlock made his way out of the Great Hall he looked over at Molly. Predictably, she blushed as she caught his eye.

His mind went back to earlier that morning in Charms. Things had been going fine, if not terribly boring, as the professor demonstrated how to properly cast the releasing charm. The class practiced verbally first as they repeated "relashio" until comfortable with the pronunciation.

As she was sitting directly beside him, he could hear that Molly's had been fine. She let him practice first as she picked up the object on their desk for him to get out of her grip. After his initial success they swapped and she had a go. Her spell was perfect and the object was torn from his grasp.

The next step would require more concentration as they were to free each other from a simple rope binding. He reached forward and tied her hands together by the wrists, then resumed his position with his wand. His second try saw the rope fall away and her hands freed.

They swapped and Molly picked up the rope to tie his wrists together. He recalled the care with which she took to make the biding tight enough to present a challenge, yet not too tight where it might irritate the skin of his wrists. He was surprised by how cold her hands were.

Sherlock unknowingly rubbed his wrists as he walked to his next class lost in thought.

As she had bound his hands his brain had sorted through information about previously read about causes to cold hands. Most likely her body was trying to regulate its internal core temperature, yet it could never be really classified as cold in the Charms classroom. As such, the data could be interpreted as the possibility she was having nerve or circulation issues.

After she finished tying the rope but before she could pull her hands away, he had gently gripped her left wrist with his larger hand, pressing two fingers against the inside to take her pulse. Her startled jump when he touched her arm would have made you think she had been electrocuted. However, she remained still for the brief amount of time until he was satisfied. He released her and waited.

Seconds passed with no attempt from Molly to free him from the rope. He looked up and met her eyes, nodding a "go ahead" in case she was waiting from some signal from him. Still she didn't move. He raised his eyebrow at her which finally seemed to pull her out of herself.

He watched as she shook her head as if to clear some obtrusive thought away and pulled her wand up at the ready. She still seemed dazed, though, not as concentrated as she previously was. She took a breath.

And then all hell broke loose.

As she inhaled, she voiced the spell on her intake of air and stuttered half way through. The awkwardly cast spell not only managed to produce some bit of magic, but actually released his bonds, as well as every object in the room from whatever fastenings they were attached to and hurled them across the room. Her spell managed to protect him and every other student as well (though they had learned by this point in their Hogwarts careers to duck and cover on a moments notice), leading him to believe her mind had fused a repelling charm into the initial spell in her nervousness.

When he looked back at her she was frozen with embarrassment. She looked at anything in the room except him for the rest of the lesson, apologizing profusely to the professor once she had recovered from her shock.

He sat back in is seat and his lips quirked the tiniest bit up at the mishap. While a mistake like this would normally elicit disdain from him (most especially from the incompetent, led by the one and only Anderson - _idiot_), for some reason with Molly being the cause coupled with her reaction afterwards made the commotion almost interesting and somehow far less irritating.

He shook his head and took his seat in the Divinations classroom, prepared to enter his mind palace for the next hour and a half. He didn't need to rely on tea leaves and crystal balls when his eyes, ears, and other senses could explain the world to him and provide all the clues he needed to predict unfolding events.

As he drifted off he entertained conjectures as to how Potions the next day would go. Of course, he smirked, Potions was also with the Ravenclaws and he was aware that the class would be in partners this week to brew. Oh, he already knew he would partner with Molly Hooper before another student could claim her. She _was_ the most competent of the rest his classmates and put up with him better than anyone else.

His mind palace appeared fully as he wondered if Molly would disappear from the castle again tonight. _I wonder if John has talked to her yet…_


	4. Chapter 4

**I'd like to give a shout out to Potix, CreamoCrop, and the two guests (you know who you are, I suppose!) who have reviewed the story so far! And another shout out to everyone who is following and/or has favorited the story! Just the fact that you guys have continued to keep up with the story or taken the time to send me a comment puts a huge smile on my face. :)**

**Without further ado, let's get to Ch.4. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I neither own anything relating to Sherlock Holmes or Harry Potter**

* * *

John smacked a hand to his face as he listened to Sherlock describe the Charms fiasco to him.

"No, ugh, Sherlock! You can't…" John struggled to find the right words to explain to his, at times, remarkably daft friend. "People don't just take other people's pulses, for a start."

Sherlock turned his head and looked back at John as he walked, an extremely bored look on his face.

"And, Sherlock, its _Molly_. You know how that would affect - ok maybe you wouldn't – but regardless! You just can't invade people's space, especially Molly's, ok?" Sherlock simply raised an eyebrow at John's expression and flailing arms.

Sure, Sherlock knew about Molly's attraction to him. "It couldn't be helped, John." They continued down the darkening corridors as Sherlock changed the subject. He wasn't in the mood for a rant from John about his 'bit not good' manner with Molly.

"Now, did you get the chance to talk to her?" They paused briefly to listen for signs of anyone approaching, then took a right.

"No." John whispered.

"I gave you one job, John, one." Sherlock whispered back. He was not pleased.

"And I agreed to help you cause I'm your mate. I could just as easily take back my offer and leave you no choice but to do the legwork yourself, you know."

"And yet, here you are, roaming the castle at night with me in search of Miss Hooper." Both boys glared at each other.

"I'll have you know that I couldn't talk to Molly because I was called to an emergency Quidditch practice earlier!" John spoke in an irritated whisper.

"And? Just skip it. I don't know why you continue to waste your time with such nonsense, John. It could be much better spent on other endeavors."

"I like to play - it lets me blow off steam and its fun. Fun is healthy, Sherlock! Next practice maybe I'll just imagine _your face_ as the Bludgers…" John poked Sherlock's shoulder with a menacing finger. "At any rate, I can't just blow off practice either. You know as well as I that Amy would kick my arse for it!"

_Wouldn't be the first time._ An image of the red headed Gryffindor Quidditch captain smacking John round the head with her broom came to mind. Sherlock smirked. John had been lucky her boyfriend from Hufflepuff had showed up and intervened.

"Besides, what were _you_ doing earlier?" John turned the accusation around to Sherlock.

"I was busy."

John scoffed. "Doing what?"

Sherlock simply sniffed and made a comment about being brilliant, to which John snorted derisively. Most likely, Sherlock had been in his mind palace all evening.

"I take it you didn't pester Molly for access to the potions classroom tonight then." It wasn't a question.

"I do not _pester _John. And no, I had no tests to brew or check on tonight."

"Right." John rolled his eyes. He was about to make a comment about bravery when they heard it.

Both boys stopped, drew closer to the shadows against the wall and listened for more movement. There was a faint shuffle coming somewhere to the left. Sherlock motioned to John to wait, and both seemed to hold their breath as the shuffling grew closer.

The sounds paused for a moment before beginning to grow fainter. John looked back to Sherlock who nodded to back to him. The pair silently moved forward, turning down another corridor after the retreating footsteps.

As they drew closer John could just make out a figure ahead. "Sherlock," he breathed. "It's Molly!" Sherlock spared him a diminishing _of course it is_ look as the made there silent dash forward.

* * *

Molly Hooper had spent her evening after dinner doing her rounds as a prefect. Maybe hanging out with Greg had rubbed off on her – him being Head Boy and all – or maybe he had some sort of sway in the decision. Either way, she didn't mind the extra duties and enjoyed the bit of extra freedom.

The only surprising thing to have happened was the lack of one Sherlock Holmes, asking her to let him into the potions room and smiling so she would say yes. She was actually rather glad he hadn't shown up. She didn't think she could face him again yet – she'd be far more awkward than her usual tongue-tied self around him (_Was that even possible? Hmm, probably._)

It had been an unusually quiet night. Though, she supposed, it was a Monday. Mondays never really inspire the daredevils and pranksters much. As per usual she ended her round with a good night to Greg. At the beginning of the year with her becoming a prefect, they had made it a routine to meet at the front of the Great Hall before turning in.

Recently she had made a change to her routine, for the time being, for better or for worse. She quietly made her way through the dark, empty corridors. Molly did feel somewhat guilty for being so secretive, keeping her nighttime project from Greg.

_I'm just not ready to share this yet._ Molly sighed and paused. _Not even with Greg._

She was so deep in thought about her situation that she missed the faint whispered voices drifting from her right as she turned down another hallway. She did, however, hear the quiet movement behind her as she approached the end of the corridor.

_Oh no, not Sherlock again._ Molly had guessed that Sherlock had knowledge of her nightly wanderings for some time now. A few weeks ago was when she had first started leaving the castle at night. She hadn't been as cautious then, not having much practice in sneaking off places. Sometime that first week Sherlock must have caught her leaving.

_He must have been on a case with John or doing some experiment of his. _ It had been obvious to her the following couple of days because he had been, as Greg so aptly put it, 'checking her out' intently.

Sherlock had never taken such a keen interest in her – with the exception of persuading her to let him into the Potions classroom and, on occasion, help him brew some unusual concoction. The only explanation in Molly's mind was that he had seen her and now she was the newest boredom reliever for him.

Well, Molly had taken as much precaution as she could since then. And, for once in her life, she seemed to be one step ahead of him if his continuing stares during meals and class were anything to go by.

As soon as she turned the corner she disillusioned herself and cast a quick "muffliato" around her. Molly figured her best bet was to find a good spot and just remain still with hopes Sherlock would pass. She heard a faint whisper. _And he's brought John along now as well. Not good Molly, not good. What I wouldn't give for an invisibility cloak right now!_

As no cloak would be forthcoming, what she needed was a distraction. _I could try the- no, that won't work. Greg and I have only just begun work on the Patronus charm, and mine is hardly even non-corporeal yet. I'm not sure I'd even be able to cast it right now anyway._

_Or_…there was something she had devised during one of the nights she had sat in the Potions room with Sherlock, but she had no idea if it would work properly or what the effects would be. Molly hesitated and bit her lip. Sherlock and John were now in sight and walking straight towards her. As Molly debated the morality of testing a new spell on Sherlock, a distraction actually did present itself in a most unusual form.

* * *

Sherlock and John were approaching the end of the corridor where it opened up to a larger space leading outdoors. Sherlock held out a hand to stop John from moving forward.

He whispered as quietly as he could. "John, what do you hear?"

John stopped to listen. "Nothing."

Sherlock nodded. "No movement."

"Probably used a disillusionment charm as well, then, if she's stopped. Unless she's left the castle already…" John mused.

"We don't want a confrontation, we won't learn anything that way." Sherlock thought for a moment on what their best move would be. "In the case that she is still in this area, let's walk past the entranceway and outside. As soon as we're out we disillusion ourselves as well and wait. If she presses on, I have little doubt her destination is beyond the castle's walls. With any luck we will be able to pick up her sounds again as she moves."

John nodded and they moved forward once more and headed towards the end of the open entranceway that would lead them to the open field and sky beyond. Halfway across the room something brushed John's leg.

"Gaahhh! What the hell was that?!" John jumped and turned wildly as he shouted, his voice ending in a whisper again after his initial shock. Both Sherlock and the unseen Molly winced at the volume of John's voice as it echoed in the dark space around them.

Molly had to hold in a gasp as she saw Toby, her cat, emerge from around a suit of armor on the other side of the room. He looked right at her for a brief second, and Molly would swear that he could see right through her spell.

"Isn't that Toby?" John seemed to have recovered from his surprise and was now peering at the animal that was now peering right back at him.

"Who?" Sherlock's furrowed eyebrows conveyed genuine confusion from the Slytherin.

"Molly's cat. I thought you noticed everything?" John asked as he bent down to the cat's level.

Before Sherlock could answer Toby began to mew at them.

"There's a good possibility that someone heard you shout – quite a show of bravery there I might add – and someone is bound to hear this…_Toby_. We should move." Sherlock continued to look somewhat bewildered at the creature. "Molly's familiar is a cat." He muttered to himself, filing away this new piece of information to be sorted later in his mind palace.

As John reached to pet Toby, the feline darted away a few feet, looked back and mewed more incessantly. He repeated this action when John stepped forward and reached out again.

"Call me wonky, Sherlock, but I think Toby wants us to follow him. Maybe he knows where Molly is – I mean, he is her familiar after all. Besides, like you said, we need to move anyway so why not give it a shot?" John shrugged and looked back at Sherlock who merely let out a sigh.

"Wonderful. We're following the _cat_ now." Sherlock was pulling information from his mind on anything he'd stored about the connection between a witch or wizard and their animal familiar, causing them to linger.

Molly watched this entire exchange and had a hard time trying to keep a giggle from bubbling to the surface, not entirely trusting the muffliato she had cast minutes before. She decided to help her cat help her, and silently cast a basic levitation spell to toss some stray debris lying on the floor at the corridor wall the boys had entered from.

Both Sherlock and John jumped minutely at the noise. They looked at each other, then down to Toby, a cat poised at the ready.

"Lead the way." Sherlock said dryly, swinging his arm out in a lazy gesture to her familiar. And off they went at a quick pace following Toby.

Molly sighed in relief but kept her enchantments in place. That was a bit of a racket they had made and someone else might decide to come investigate. But thanks to Toby, Sherlock and John were being lead down a corridor parallel to the outdoors, leaving her a clear path to reach her destination. Best to get a move on if she was going to have any time to work tonight.

_Toby, you silly animal, you were brilliant! I'll have to remember to give him some extra treats next time I see him. I wonder where in the world he's taking them?_


	5. Chapter 5

**Time for another chapter! I just returned from a road trip, so I do apologize for the delay in posting chapter 5. Thanks again to everyone who has followed and to those that have reviewed, you guys are the best! Hope you all enjoy this next bit.**

**CreamoCrop - Initially I had considered both of those as Molly's secret, but decided to go with something else. More hints ahead :)**

**Potix - Where indeed? Let's just say Toby is a cat on a mission...**

**Disclaimer: I am not Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, or JK Rowling; only an admirer, fan, and aspiring writer.**

* * *

Coast clear thanks to her brilliant cat, Toby, Molly dashed through the corridor that led her out onto Hogwart's grounds. The night was mostly clear, the crisp air a sure sign of the transitioning seasons with winter fast approaching.

_I probably only have another week or so to practice outside._ Molly frowned at the thought as she slowed her gait to a quick walk. As much as she found being outside helped her to focus on her goal, she knew it would be unwise to be out in the middle of the night freezing her bum off. She sighed, making her way down towards the lake at the edge of the forest.

_I will just have to find a good spot to work inside, where I won't cause a disturbance._ A few ideas where already forming in her mind, though she would lament the loss of the gentle lap of the tide against the shore and the nocturnal soundtrack emanating from just beyond the trees leading deeper into the forest.

Before she knew it, Molly had found her way to one of her spots. Some nights found her around the lake, others in a clearing just beyond the beginnings of the forest – though she had lost too much time already to head there. She sat down, pulling her robes around her closely to protect her from the chill.

Her nightly sessions always began with a meditation of sorts. Books she had been reading on the subject, and the bit she could coax out of her Head of House on the subject would run through her mind like a study sheet. Surprisingly, there really wasn't any sort of accepted general method in learning and applying this spell which would only be cast by the witch or wizard successfully one time. After that, the magic was permanent and could be performed wandlessly and at will.

Because there were so few others that, at least recorded and known to Britain, had accomplished learning this ability, the information she did find on the subject was mostly theoretical. However, the few personal testimonies that did exist and the strategies described in the transfiguration books were a lot better than going off nothing at all. The spell itself, when cast, could go terribly, terribly wrong.

Molly's shoulders dropped and hunched inwards as her mind took her down a familiar path. _So few are known to accomplish this all that often, and look at those you know have done it, Molly! All really talented and skillful witches and wizards._ Molly Hooper thought of her plainness and lack of any extraordinary feature, magical or otherwise.

_What makes you think you can do this?_ An all too familiar voice niggled its way into her thoughts. _I'm a lousy excuse for a witch already. Molly Hooper, destroyer of classrooms!_

_No, no, no. No more self doubt, Molly. You can do this._ A new voice that sounded suspiciously like Greg Lestrade's cut off such a familiar line of self deprecating thoughts.

Molly forced herself to straighten her posture and inhale a deep breath of air slowly through her nose. _Molly Hooper you will not let self doubt ruin this for you._ Once cast correctly, the magic from the spell would take effect based on the personality of the caster at that time. A new voice echoed in her mind.

_You are someone special Molly. You have such a kind, strong heart, and don't get me started on that brain of yours!_ Her father's laugh echoed in her mind this time as she relived a moment from her past. Molly had come home that afternoon and couldn't help her tearful outburst from being teased at school by some other girls. Her father, kind man that he is, had kneeled down to her level and, taking her shoulders in his strong hands, waited for her to look him in the eye.

His own eyes were more serious than she was usually privy to as he was always the jokester, making those around him laugh with his goofy antics. _Now. You are the most incredible person I know, and you're only eight! And do you know what I know, with all my heart?_ Little Molly shook her head as she sniffled. _You are going to continue to become an amazing woman. Anyone who can't see this is not worth giving one single, tiny, fragment of a thought to._ Her six year old self had nodded, but still appeared unconvinced.

Her father's eyes had turned sad at her disbelief. He hugged her close and continued. _Molly, Molly. Listen now, and carry this with you. Yes, you are different. _Boy had that been an understatement when three years later they were surprised with a letter from Hogwarts addressed to her. _And sometimes life will seem very hard because of this. But remember - you will always have people who love and are cheering for you right here._

Her father continued his earnest appeal softly. _People will perceive your quiet demeanor as strange, and your unassuming kindness as weak, but you have more decency and inner strength than those people will ever dream of having, and that is worth so much more. You_, and here he pulled back slightly again to point at her heart as he continued, _are special. And I am so proud to be your father. Never let anyone, most especially yourself, get you down.  
_  
Molly snapped her thoughts back to the present. Her father's words brought a slight upturn to her lips before she frowned once more. However, Molly was able to refocus her thoughts on the task at hand and tried to find that inner strength her father always believed existed so strongly within her.

Greg was also telling her constantly that she was far too hard on herself and shouldn't be so negative. He believed in her, was one of those people her father had talked about cheering for her.

_Oh, enough moping, Molly. You have work to do. _And to Molly, that work did not include becoming a lame little mouse that so many of her peers associated her with.

She wanted to share this with her dad, remembering when she had animatedly chatted about this magical ability one summer after first hearing about it in class. They had giggled and talked excitedly about the possibilities and how brilliant it would be, and the subject had continued to captivate her father ever since. She wanted him to see it properly, to make him proud and be one more thing they could share.

With that she went over the most recent information she had found and then stood up to run through some exercises. She pulled her hair back into a straight ponytail and got to work. _I'm going to get this right for you, dad._

* * *

Sherlock and John were following Molly's cat this way and that in a complex path through the castle. Sherlock was still unconvinced, but what choice did they have now? Molly would be long gone at this point if the cat was leading them on a wild goose chase. His own conclusions from more than a few nights' observations told him that she was almost definitely outside of Hogwart's walls.

So caught up were both boys in their own thoughts and with following the movements of the nimble cat, neither caught on to where they were headed until it was too late.

"Sherlock!" John whispered urgently to the Slytherin at his side. "Sherlock! Look where we are!"

Sherlock snapped out of his inner monologue and looked around him. A slight spark of trepidation manifested in the pit of his stomach as he came to a similar realization.

The two had been on enough nightly escapades in the name of solving a case to recognize what they had termed, "Gregson territory." The strictest professor in the school was sharp, irritable, and quick to dole out punishment. Students with any sort of sense gave the professor a wide berth. He could sniff out rule breaking students like a bloodhound on a trail. They would have to proceed with extreme caution, or else double back and take a different path around.

A noise broke the air painfully. Toby had begun to meow once more, having paused ahead of them seemingly unaware of their hesitation. "Shh. Toby, shhh!" Too late, John looked to Sherlock with dread as they heard it. Footsteps. Headed their way. And fast.

"Nox!" John let the light from his wand die but just moments later the hallway was lit again. Sherlock looked around them and scowled. Toby was nowhere to be found.

"Mr. Watson, Mr. Holmes. Couldn't sleep and decided try your hands at being cats now? Or is this some new method Mr. Holmes has devised for solving one of those 'cases' you so love regaling your peers with Mr. Watson?"

The Professor's voice had a sarcasm to it which lulled at the speaker's will. No doubt, the practiced tone was built up from years of teaching teenagers with magical abilities and a certain penchant for mischief.

John stood tall but with an embarrassed tint gracing his features while Sherlock crossed his arms and glared.

Unperturbed and with a bored sigh that could rival Sherlock's, Professor Gregson continued. "Either way I don't care to know. Detention tomorrow evening, my office. And thirty points each from Gryffindor and Slytherin."

* * *

The next day John grumbled to Sherlock over breakfast.

"Next time we are taking the invisibility cloak."

"We can't. Why else do you suppose we didn't take it last night?"

"Why, what have you done with it?!" John looked alarmed as a multitude of possibilities presented themselves as to what his friend could have done with such a precious object in the name of science (_read boredom_).

"It's not what _I_ have done with it." John knew Sherlock only looked this indignant for one reason.

In unison the boys exhaled an annoyed, "Mycroft."

"Well get it back from him mate!" There was a pause in conversation as Sherlock provided no answer. John knew he was never keen to contact or be contacted by his older brother, and John couldn't really blame him. The young Ministry official was not prone to empathy and had always had rather dubious means for keeping tabs on Sherlock and his associates – _namely me._

"By the way," John continued, curious about something. "Why is it that you haven't been able to follow her properly at all?" He doubted that Molly's cat showing up was a common occurrence, especially as Sherlock had no knowledge of Toby previous to last night's episode.

If Sherlock's silence was anything to go by, John knew he had struck a nerve. Sherlock prided himself on his deduction skills which often included being able to track down exactly who or what he set his mind to. _Interesting. Molly is the first person who has been able to elude him for so long. And if I had to guess, she's not even doing so on purpose!_

"Are we going to try again then tonight?" John felt the need to break through Sherlock's developing mood. He was hoping the answer would be yes; he quite enjoyed the excitement and stimulation that cases with Sherlock always brought.

"We? I do hope you aren't including the cat once more." Sherlock bit back with eyes narrowed.

John made a humming noise before replying jokingly, "Is Toby the newest addition to your arch nemesis list? You know he might be in league with Mycroft…"

"_Toby_ was a cat on a mission, John! That little beast knew exactly what he was doing." Sherlock looked to torn between supreme annoyance and grudging respect. "But to answer your question, yes. We will pursue Molly once more tonight, but _we_ will not be taking directions from _you_ this time. And do try to actually talk to her today."

John gave Sherlock a mock salute before Sherlock turned his gaze away to look once more across the hall at Molly, the curious Ravenclaw.

Just then a flutter of energy manifested from above. A couple dozen owls flew in, most of which carried newspapers or letters, a few with a small package for its recipient. One owl perched on the table in front of John and delivered a letter.

"It's from mum." He mumbled to himself as he opened his mail. John did get the regular letter from home every couple of weeks or so, and usually he had managed to keep his mother satisfied with responses of his well being.

Sherlock got up and motioned toward John. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah, in a minute." John responded distractedly as he began to frown. He looked up briefly to give Sherlock his full attention. "Actually, you go on ahead Sherlock. I'm just gonna finish reading this first, and my class is closer anyway." The fifth year simply shrugged and headed out with a brief nod. John Watson's frown deepened as he continued to read. _Well, maybe part of this mystery is solved. Blimey, I really do need to talk to Molly now._


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello readers! First of all, I do apologize for the delay with this chapter. This chapter was giving me some difficulty and I had to go through and rewrite some stuff before I was happy with it. We find out a bit more about Molly's motivation this chapter, and Sherlock gets a bit tripped up on an overreaction. Hope it makes up for the wait! Oh, and if anyone is interested in betaing this story, I'd love the extra eye and input. As always, reviews/feedback are welcome and appreciated. Alright enough from me, enjoy and thanks for reading!**

**Disclaimer: Would you believe it? I do not own Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes, or Hogwarts and all that Hogwarts entails.**

* * *

John Watson made it his priority at the late morning block between classes to seek out Molly Hooper. The letter from his mum had mostly revolved around the Hoopers – more specifically, Mr. Hooper. John wondered if it had anything to do with Molly leaving at night.

He spotted her as he was approaching the courtyard where many of the older students milled about. Straight brown hair down for a change, she was walking quickly in the same direction. _Probably to meet up with Greg. Best try to catch her beforehand to make things less awkward._

"Molly!" John called out to catch her attention. She stopped and turned as John jogged to catch up with her.

"Hi John." Molly smiled brightly at him as usual. Their families were acquainted with one another, coming from the same town and all. Of course, both having children who had surprised them with magical abilities gave them something more to bond over in recent years.

"Hey," John smiled back and tried to figure out the best way to broach the subject he wanted to ask her about. "Do you have a minute?" He made a gesture pointing to a quieter area behind them.

Molly's face took on a concerned look as her brow furrowed and her smile faltered. "Sure, of course. Is everything all right?" _Oh no, what if he and Sherlock are in some kind of trouble?_

"Oh, yeah, it's fine. I wanted to talk to you actually." They doubled back away from the courtyard until they found a secluded area where they wouldn't be disturbed. John motioned for Molly to sit down on a bench and then he followed suit.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Confusion took over concern in Molly's expression.

He looked up at her, then leaned over his knees to think, then sat up again and turned his head to focus on her. Molly watched him struggle patiently, though her confusion was giving way to worried comprehension. John's features finally settled into lines of determination and he took a deep breath, about to begin.

"Look, Molly." John paused before continuing. "Is everything alright? I mean, what I mean is-"

"That you know." John nodded. Molly sighed and let her head drop. Her hair swept down to partially hide her face. She knew it was only a matter of time before he would find out. News traveled around their town, and his parents were bound to find out sooner rather than later.

_But it's John. He won't push or prod, and he is nothing if not a kind person._

"I'm ok, John." She spoke towards the bench before lifting her head to look straight at him. "Please, don't tell anyone though."

"Of course." John returned in a soft tone with a reassuring nod. He could respect her desire for privacy.

"I know I'm being silly," she began, feeling a need to explain herself to him. "But I'm just not ready to talk about it yet, so I don't want anyone to know. People will ask questions, want answers, and I don't think I can handle that yet." _Stupid, stupid, stupid. I'm pathetic._

John had always had a gift when it came to helping others. He just knew when he was supposed to listen and when he was supposed to offer advice or take some sort of action. He watched as Molly made a sort of frustrated sigh, as if irked with herself, and waited for her to continue.

"It's just- my dad, he has been the one constant in my life until I met Greg, and you, and Sherlock, and a few others here. And now…" Molly inhaled deeply and shook her head. "And now this." She couldn't bring herself to say it out loud.

John took one of her hands in his own and spoke gently. "It's perfectly alright to be worried, Molly." _Hell, I know I would be._

Molly closed her eyes and nodded. _Cancer_ was the missing word that hung in the air around them now.

"He's so brave John." She forced a smile that came out as more of a grimace. "I was able to visit him one weekend after finding out, and he just carried on making me laugh and smile as if nothing was wrong." She added ruefully, "I bet he would have been a Gryffindor." John smiled as well, sympathetic to her attempt at humor.

"How bad is it, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Two weeks ago he was moved to a hospital in London indefinitely, but the hospital is putting him through treatments."

John's eyebrows raised in concern. "And they only found the cancer a month ago?"

"About two months ago, actually, is when they first caught it." Her father was one of those people who only went to the doctor when absolutely needed. He couldn't stand the sterile environment and being told to do this or that. Even still, the cancer had crept up and surprised them all with its appearance during his much hated checkup, and it hadn't wasted time spreading throughout his cells.

"For the past two weeks I've been getting letters almost daily from him; he claims there is nothing better to do but entertain me with his 'Tales from St Barts'. He ends every letter with a reassurance that he is doing ok and a request that I stay at Hogwarts and continue my learning. He says that he'll see me soon enough at Christmas."

Both were silent for a while. "You know," John broke the quiet. "It's amazing that we can do all of this incredible stuff with magic, but the wizarding world has had as much luck with creating a cure to cancer as the muggle world."

Molly nodded her agreement. She had thought on that quite a bit as well. When she'd first found out, she had spent any night she could in the potions classroom with Sherlock looking up information on magical cures.

There was another brief silence before John spoke again. _Best just to put it out there._ "Listen, Molly, I won't tell anyone. That's for you to decide when you're ready. And you know you can talk to me anytime you want to. But, I do want to make sure that everything is alright – if there's anything you're working through, I'd like to make sure you are ok, and safe."

Molly knew exactly what he was referring to, after all John and Sherlock had been following her just last night. This time she patted his hand in a show both appreciation and appeasement.

"It's nothing John, really. And..." She hesitated a moment, "well, um, you can, you can tell Sherlock that as well. No doubt he'd be disappointed with what he found." She smiled sadly at John before standing up, indicating that she would reveal no more than that assurance. "Thank you for listening and for, well for being you, John."

With that she left John to gawk at her small admission. _Blimey, how long has she known that Sherlock has been following her? Molly definitely doesn't get enough credit from him. Or me._ John smacked himself mentally for underestimating a friend and stood up with a strong feeling that Sherlock would soon be delivered a lesson in humility.

_I swear, if Molly Hooper manages to knock him down a peg or two…_John smiled at the thought. Then he grinned impishly as a new one emerged. _I do believe that there is a good opportunity brewing for life to improve for one John Hamish Watson._

Thoughts of Mr. Hooper quickly sobered the Gryffindor's thoughts as he felt the letter in his pocket. For now he had to find a way to get Sherlock to back down without giving away at least the one part of Molly's secret that he knew.

* * *

Molly and Sherlock sat brewing together during Potions. As Sherlock had known, the class had partnered up to work on a Wiggenweld potion. He, as planned, had been quick to partner with Molly, though Anderson had attempted to grab Molly first.

_The blithering idiot. He should know by now that she is __**my**__ partner. _Sherlock didn't do pity, but he gave himself a rare moment to lament how often he had to put up with Anderson, seeing as they had somehow ended up in the same house.

Sherlock then returned his attention to said partner and their potion. At the moment she was stirring the concoction while he prepared the ingredients for the next step. He glanced over at her again. _Molly always looks so at ease when brewing. Focused, yes, but also calm. Not like she is in Charms._ The events of the previous day ran through his mind once again. _No, not at all like Charms._

For her part, Molly was deep in thought about her earlier conversation with John. She knew that he wouldn't share the news about her dad, but she felt jumpy all the same.

_At least brewing with Sherlock doesn't make me as nervous and clumsy as I normally am._ Part of it was that she had brewed with him many times by now, both inside and out of class.

But Molly was also good at Potions. In fact, she excelled at it. Ever since her first year at Hogwarts she had found a second home down in the dungeons. Her quick mind, quiet demeanor, and eagerness to learn had also endeared her somewhat to the resident Potions Master, a quiet man himself.

Even now as she sat stirring their potion alternately clockwise and counterclockwise, she could feel the edginess slipping away as she fell into a precise rhythm. She paused and Sherlock tipped in more salamander blood, then took up stirring once more. They continued on like a well oiled machine until the potion turned a bright, simmering green.

Beside them, Anderson was struggling with his partner over another cauldron. He looked over as they finished and sneered. "Freaks."

Molly would have just let the comment slip, not being a confrontational person by nature. Most people either didn't mind her or didn't bother with her, but she had heard crueler comments before from a few of the nastier students.

Sherlock, too, had heard far worse and this was nothing new from Anderson. Yet this time the insult caused a sliver of a fracture on his cool façade. Before he knew what he was doing he had pulled out his wand.

_Why am I so upset? For God's sake, it's just Anderson!_

Just as quickly as he had pulled his wand out, someone was removing it and placing it on the table. Molly's hand lingered on his arm (_warm this time,_ he noted satisfactorily) as she quietly told him no.

"It's not worth it Sherlock." Normally that was John's line. It was odd hearing it from Molly, especially as it was spoken with the absence of a stutter. And yet the command from her instantly snapped him back into his unruffled demeanor as his sharp wit returned.

The stupid smile which the unintended reaction had put on Anderson's face dropped when Sherlock leaned over, looked at their potion, and shook his head with a condescending smirk. While the potion changed color multiple times before it was ready, it was never supposed to be the puce shade it was currently sporting.

"Anderson, I didn't realize you were still struggling with words," Sherlock spoke in mock concern. "Perhaps we can speak with the professor and find you a potions book with pictures."

Anderson spluttered indignantly and Sherlock dropped the smile. "Next time, Anderson, don't brew so close to us. Your incompetence if extremely off putting."

With that Sherlock took a sample of his and Molly's potion up to the professor. Molly began cleaning their area and packing up. _Well that was…odd. Sherlock is normally so collected. Must be having a bad day._

She was also more than a bit astonished that Sherlock had listened to her – scratch that, that she had actually commanded Sherlock to do something. She did a tiny mental celebration at her success.

* * *

As Sherlock sat through History of Magic, his thoughts dwelled on the incident with Anderson. He puzzled at his overreaction. _Perhaps this requires some input from John. He is, after all, a veteran of emotional outbursts._

* * *

_Well John has proved extremely unhelpful. Sentiment? Me? Not likely._

_"Have you considered that it has to do with Molly?"_

_"Molly? No that can't possibly be right John, weren't you listening? It was Anderson who said it."_

_"No, I mean that maybe you were upset because he called you both freaks."_

_Could that really be it? I hardly care about Molly beyond her abilities as my partner in classes and privileges as a prefect._

_"Why should that bother me?"_

_"I don't know, Sherlock, why should that bother you?" _John had got up and left then. He seemed upset about something.

_It doesn't bother me. I have easily dismissed Molly before, I wouldn't be upset about something Anderson called her. There._

Though try as he might all through detention with John that evening, Sherlock couldn't delete the incident from his mind. He had a nagging feeling that he was missing something essential, and if there was one thing Sherlock hated more than Anderson (_other than Mycroft, perhaps_), it was a missing piece of information. _One cannot solve a case if one cannot put the clues together correctly._


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello again! Ready for the next installment? This chapter is a bit lighter than the previous one, as Sherlock turns all of his deductive prowess on Molly while they brew. Or tries. Anderson may be a nuisance but his appearance may prove to be of some good. A big thank you to everyone who has favorited, followed and/or reviewed this story, and I hope you guys have fun reading this one!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. I owe my thanks to the brilliant minds of J.K. Rowling, ACD, Moffat, and Gatiss for the inspiration.**

* * *

It was official. Sherlock Holmes was a wizard on a mission. Said wizard on a mission glanced over at Molly as he brewed another of his experimental concoctions – though _glanced_ might not be right. _Glare_ would be more apt.

More than anything now, Sherlock felt he was missing essential information, and that he was the only one in the equation lacking it. John had spoken with Molly three days ago, and it was clear that he had learned something of significance. He seemed to be especially sensitive to her, going out of his way to make contact with her at some point during the day. Then there were the concerned glances he shot at her during meals or when he happened to see her around the grounds.

_And yet, my so called 'friend' decides he can't share this information with the person who brought the entire case to his attention in the first place. How wonderful. Well Sherlock Holmes doesn't need friends._

Sherlock stared hard at the bubbling liquid in his cauldron. He felt as if Molly Hooper was making a mockery out of him, and without even playing the game. _Think Sherlock. There is nothing so difficult about this case, about her…you're just not putting all the pieces together. Think!_

He had come to the potions room a little while ago to find Molly already inside, working silently. Sherlock had been prepared to flash his 'Molly smile' and dole out some form of compliment, but his false pretenses proved unnecessary. She had simply looked up and greeted him quietly as if expecting him to have come around eventually.

In fact, he had been slightly put off by her reserved welcome. _He_ was usually her sole focus during these experimental brewing sessions. Instead, Molly seemed very distracted tonight.

And as far as distractions where going, there was just something about her that was throwing him off. Or rather, multiple somethings. _First Molly, then her cat, and now John._

The night after their detention John had convinced Sherlock that they were too tired to make any sort of effort without risking getting caught again to continue the chase. Then last night John had deflected his attention with a possible new case. _Yes, the new case that was quite possibly an eight._

It had involved John, Lestrade, packs of girls, and abhorrent pick up lines.The entire thing was exceedingly dull and just plain embarrassing. And the two then had the gall to snicker uncontrollably at him whenever there was a lack of female presence around like it was some fantastic joke. _An eight. Bloody prats._

It was starting to get to him that he hadn't learned all there was to know about Molly Hooper yet. _I haven't put full effort into following her, that's it. However, tonight Miss Hooper, you have my undivided attention._

Tonight Sherlock intended to get back on track, regardless of what John thought of the idea.

"Molly," Sherlock began easily, "what was it you were mixing a couple weeks ago when we were in here?"

Molly turned and looked up, slightly shocked that Sherlock was actually initiating a conversation. She had never met anyone who liked small talk less than the Slytherin behind her.

"Oh. You mean when you were, um, documenting the properties of boomslang skin?"

"Indeed." Sherlock was attempting to backtrack to when he had noticed Molly's odd behavior and recall anything of importance he hadn't paid much mind to. "I believe you were using fairy wings and doxy eggs?"

Molly nodded her head.

"As well as dragonfly thoraxes?" Sherlock had his hands in a prayer pose now.

"Yes, that's right." Molly waited for him to continue. She knew Sherlock well enough at this point to know when to just let him finish. _That he is a bit of a showoff is an understatement. _Then again, she thought, she always rather enjoyed watching him show off. _Ok, most of the time. Not always._

"And you ended up with a golden solution. Am I correct in assuming you also used flying seahorses that night then?" He raised an eyebrow in her direction.

"You are."

"Ah. A girding potion, then." _Well that explains why she isn't falling asleep with the addition of her nightly escapades. _Sherlock stared at her expectantly. Molly squirmed a bit at his attention but managed to stammer out an answer.

"Professor Hudson. She asked me to brew a batch for her. I guess the infirmary supplies were low and, and winter is coming, and end of term stress, you know…" _Oh dear I'm rambling._ Molly cringed as she heard herself continue babbling inanely.

Sherlock, to his credit, was actually still listening to her and nodding his head at appropriate times. "Of course." _Molly, Molly, Molly. You are terrible at hiding things._

John's voice chimed up at that and reminded him that Molly continued to successfully hide her nightly whereabouts from him. Sherlock waved John and his unwanted taunts away in his mind and went back to strictly observing Molly.

_Whew! Managed it. _Technically, Molly was telling him the truth. _Sherlock just doesn't need to know that not all of the potion went to the hospital wing._

Girding potion, when drunk, would increase a person's stamina and endurance for a few weeks. It was just what she needed to keep up with everything and avoid getting too stressed and falling ill. So she had simply made a little extra, and taken one of the three vials she had kept.

_Actually, it's almost time for me to take the second one. I can feel the effects beginning to wear off._

As Sherlock remained silent, Molly turned back to her own potion. She wasn't working on anything in particular; she had gone down to the dungeons to give herself something to do instead of worry. She hadn't had an owl from her dad in a few days, which was unusual at this point.

Molly was cut off from her thoughts by another person entering the room and inwardly groaned. _Oh no. Not tonight._

"Well, well, well, the freak can't get enough of his potions in class I see." Anderson had been on his way to the Slytherin common room when he heard voices coming from the potions room. "Molly." He nodded his head at her in greeting.

Molly was about to reply with a resigned 'hello' when Sherlock beat her to it.

"Anderson, kindly bugger off and force your dull and predictable presence upon some other victim." Sherlock made a shooing motion with an outstretched arm at the intruder without looking up from his cauldron.

"And why should I do that? Maybe I'll stick around and learn a thing or to from Molly here."

_No, don't bring me into this! _Molly began to fret with her hands, not wanting another situation nor particularly caring about Anderson's education after their exchange in Potions earlier that week. "Uh, you know, now isn't really…"

Sherlock cut in again with a loud and exaggerated sigh, and looked to Molly with a defeated frown.. "It's sad, is it not Molly?"

Molly whipped her head over to Sherlock and wasn't sure how she was supposed to respond. "Ehm, what's…sad?"

"That Anderson still believes he has a chance of improving his intelligence, let alone his potion making skills." Sherlock shook his head at her, completely ignoring the third occupant of the room.

"Why you!" Anderson was the one to pull out his wand this time in anger.

"Don't. Even. Think about it. It will not end well." Sherlock was losing his patience with his least favorite housemate.

_Crap_. Molly was alternately thinking of a way to end the dispute – she was a prefect, after all, right? – and seeking out the best place to take cover. _Although…I suppose I could try out - but what if it doesn't work as I believe it will? The concept is so simple though!_

Anderson raised his wand with malicious intent, getting ready to curse Sherlock.

"Out!" Sherlock commanded to cut off whatever Anderson was going to say and stared daggers at him.

Molly could almost see the sparks beginning to fly between the two boys in the room. _If it doesn't work, I'll take him to the hospital wing. I have to do something._ Mind made up, Molly quietly slipped her wand from her robe pocket to grasp firmly in her hand. She focused on what she intended to do, pointed the wand discreetly at Anderson, and quietly but forcefully muttered "repello Anderson".

It was a variation of the muggle repelling charm that was used to protect the wizarding world from being found out. The effect often caused muggles stumbling near a wizarding area to suddenly remember some important appointment they had or place they needed to be. While studying it, Molly's mind had wandered to other possibilities and reasoned that it should work on an individual if it could work on a group of people. _Time to find out if I was right._

The first thing to happen was Anderson's face taking on a blank look for an instant. He dropped his wand arm down slowly and his face scrunched up in befuddled concentration before opening up again with a look of realization. "Oh. How could I have forgotten?" He trailed off, still a bit dazed. And just like that he turned and left, heading, presumably, back to his common room.

Molly realized she was smiling a bit too widely at the departing back of Anderson just a second too late. Sherlock was now giving her a look. She schooled her expression back to normal and shrugged at him.

"What was that?" His voice held genuine interest. _Molly most definitely had her wand out, why else would her had have been moving away from her pocket. Whatever she muttered, I want to know what that was._

Molly simply shrugged again as if to blow him off, but Sherlock was having none of that. He walked over to her slowly and continued pressing. "Molly?" He advanced closer, still, keeping a steady, intense gaze. "What spell was that?"

Her heart was pounding out a familiar rhythm; one that played every time Sherlock was near. She gulped. If she told him, she would lose the upper hand she could have on him if he followed after her again. But really, what harm would it do to explain?

_Damn him, and his eyes, and why does he keep coming closer?! _

"It was," her mouth felt incredibly dry, and he was close enough now that she had to angle her head up to hold his gaze. "Well, it was a variation of the, of the…"

"Yes?"

_Oh god, I can feel his breath now! Why? Why do I have to be such a mess around him?_

"Muggle repelling charm." Molly finished speaking her sentence, feeling as if she had just run a mile. She watched as Sherlock's eyes grew unfocused as he thought that over and muttered to himself about said charm. She could make out a mumbled, "simple, but effective."

Seconds later, his arms came up and his hands gripped either of her shoulders and he looked down at her again. "Molly Hooper," he breathed, "that is brilliant."

_Sherlock just. Sherlock Holmes just complimented me. …What? _If she had managed to contain a blush up to this point, she certainly wasn't now.

Sherlock was still grabbing her shoulders excitedly, Molly bright red and speechless, when the door opened for a second time that evening.

"Oh," came a surprised but familiar voice. "Am I interrupting something?" The teasing voice of Greg Lestrade broke the moment.

Molly immediately tried to back up only to hit the table behind her and brought her hands up in embarrassed surprise. "N-no! It's not what it, we were, I mean I…"

At the same time Sherlock responded with a bored voice. "Yes, actually you are Lestrade." He still hadn't backed away from her yet. He wanted to talk more about the potential of Molly's spell with her.

"What?" Squawked a now thoroughly awkward looking Molly.

Lestrade just laughed and walked fully into the room. "Well I'm sorry to ruin your moment, but I have to steal Molly from you, Sherlock." At this he turned to appeal to Molly in particular. "Peeves has terrified some Firsties and made a right mess of the third floor corridor. I could use a bit of help if you're up for it."

Glad of the excuse to disengage herself from Sherlock and breathe again (_and NOT make any more of a fool of myself_), Molly made her reply. "Sure, I don't mind. Just give me one second, Greg." She quickly turned off the burner beneath her potion and put a stasis charm on it.

She began to move toward the door when a thought occurred to her. She turned back to Sherlock to find him following her movements with an almost disappointed expression.

"You can stay here if you'd like, Sherlock. But please try to keep the room in order until I get back – I don't want to lose the professor's trust and privilege of using it, and, well I know you don't either." She then scurried past Greg who gave Sherlock an appraising look before nodding and closing the door after Molly.

It was close to an hour after Greg and Molly had left and still Sherlock's mind was preoccupied by Molly. _Miss Hooper is, apparently, full of surprises. _Her ingenuity impressed him. He thought about the spell, how it was the perfect way to deal with an unwanted presence by _not_ dealing with them.

Sherlock was so caught up in his thoughts that he missed the telltale signs of a potion gone amiss. It wasn't until the bubbling turned into a violent gurgling that Sherlock became aware of his surroundings once more.

He had just enough time to shield himself before the experimental concoction burst up, redecorating one section of the classroom with sticky purple globs. Sherlock stood up again and regained his footing. _Well. That was rather unexpected._

He looked around him at the botched experiment with a frown. _Molly will not be pleased. _Cleaning was such a dull activity, though. "John!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello! I want to apologize for the delay in posting a new chapter, life has been a bit hectic as of late with the job search, a small part time job, networking, etc. (and some fun stuff thrown in there too). But there is good news from the chaos. After a phone interview and five part creative exercise I had over the last two weeks, I've got a second interview in person this week for a full time job. Here's hoping!**

**At any rate, I'll get a move on as I've made you wait enough for this next chapter, which I hope you enjoy. Ok, actually, I have one more thing to add (sorry!). I am throwing out a nod to the organizers of SherlockeDCC coming up in a few weeks - I'm stoked to go meet some fellow Sherlockians, and so impressed by everything they have done to set this up. If anyone reading this is going to be there, give me a shout as I'd love to say hi! :)**

**Disclaimer: Would I be looking for a full time job if I were in any way connected to the creative teams that brought BBC Sherlock or Harry Potter to life? I think not.**

* * *

A week had gone by since the night in the potions room and Sherlock was more frustrated than ever.

"I don't understand it, John. She just stopped. I was all set to put this case to rest last week when she just stops leaving at night!" With a sigh of supreme disappointment, Sherlock flopped in his arm chair so that he was looking at John from an odd angle.

John noticed a few passerby look their way from their more secluded seats and shushed Sherlock. "Keep your voice down a bit mate. Let's try not to get kicked out of the library today."

"But why, John?" Sherlock exclaimed, voice the tiniest bit lower.

"Uh, because I'd like to continue to study in here?"

"No, no, no! Why would she stop? And if she has stopped, why does she look more tired than ever? One minute she's being brilliant and repelling Anderson, and the next she is all emotions and _sentiment_." He continued to grumble before settling on, "She makes no sense John."

"Uh-huh." John nodded absentmindedly as he looked over some notes. He'd heard this all before throughout the week. Apparently Sherlock had actually succeeded in following Molly the night he had to clean up the potions room, but only to find out nothing. Sherlock informed him that Molly hadn't stayed more than ten minutes down by the lake before turning around and heading back to the castle.

Sherlock went over the memory once more in search of some other clue he had missed.

_After cleaning the purple substance from the classroom – what a pain that had been cleaning by hand; what kind of potion gets offended by 'evanesco?' (and John had not shown up to help him) – Sherlock had disillusioned himself and waited for Molly's reappearance outside the room. She turned up to clean her own cauldron not long after he'd finished and to ensure that Sherlock hadn't destroyed the classroom in her absence._

_Molly had just looked tired and distracted. She made a detour to her common room to put her things away before exiting again. Fortunately for Sherlock, her exhaustion worked in his favor as it made Molly careless. He had followed her with ease, and was a bit surprised when she stopped and sat down by the lake. Keeping a short distance away and still under a disillusionment spell, Sherlock stayed hidden and waited with anticipation at what she would do next._

_Only, she didn't do anything. He watched as she sat there, seemingly lost in thoughts. Then Molly had broken the stillness with a frustrated groan. Curious he shifted himself so as to hear her better._

_"Oh this is stupid! What am I doing here?" Molly stood up abruptly, turned to go, then turned back, tension stiffening her frame. Sherlock couldn't recall a time he had seen Molly angry before. He watched on with interest._

_Molly stood still and took a deep breath, trying to process all of her thoughts and just let them go. She was tired and all she really wanted to do was curl up in bed with Toby. Why had she come here tonight? She should have known she wouldn't accomplish anything, she was too anxious._

_Stepping closer to the water she looked down at her reflection and frowned. "Why haven't I heard from him? He always sends me something." She muttered and continued to stare in the water. Without warning she kicked at the earth sending a few stones and clumps of dirt flying, distorting her reflection and disturbing the water. "I'll probably never even accomplish this for him." She turned back, nearly facing where he was hidden straight on._

_Sherlock watched on as an internal battle waged across her face. With a far more dejected sigh, she pocketed her wand and left. He followed at a distance behind her, but she just returned to the castle and back to RavenclawTower._

_He retreated to the dungeons with disappointment etched on his face, but stayed up pondering for the remainder of the night. Clearly she set out to do something but didn't follow through. Perhaps tomorrow night? Irritated that his success that night had not led him to any revelations about Molly, he retreated into his mind to think._

As Sherlock sat he tilted his head at John, now completely upside in his chair. _Something was bothering her. _He may not be an expert when it came to emotions, but that much was clear to him a week ago. _And who was the 'he' she had been referring to?_ She had let her guard down. _John knows what that something is. _He suspected that Lestrade now knew as well.

"You know what is bothering her." It wasn't a question and John looked up from his studying.

"Yes." He wasn't going to supply much as he resumed staring at notes and books.

"Well?" Sherlock made a gesture for him to go on (_which looked ridiculous upside down_) but John remained silent. With no answer forthcoming Sherlock sat up correctly and asked, "What have I done to deserve this silence?"

John sighed and resigned himself to a break from his work. "Why are you so worked up by this, Sherlock?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Missing information."

Closing one book to fold his hands atop of, John continued. "Yeah, but you're never this affected by people's emotional problems. You would just as soon throw a party for Mycroft than pay the slightest bit of attention to what was _bothering_ someone."

"Unless it was related to a case." Sherlock pointed out.

John weighed his point before conceding. "Unless it was related to a case."

However, John's words gave Sherlock some pause. He supposed his friend was right in some ways. He normally wouldn't care so much about something so trivial. _Emotions are boring, too predictable._ But it seemed that his mind had fixated on Molly Hooper and what it was she could be hiding so well around him, trivial or not.

"I have to know." Sherlock repeated. He received a frank look in return.

"Just admit it," John spoke again, "you care about Molly."

"I do not." Sherlock stated emphatically. "I care about no one." John rolled his eyes. _You would think I just accused him of murder._

"Mmhmm." His tone was one of utter disbelief. "And that's why the only subject I've heard from your mouth since last Thursday is Molly Hooper." At his friend's stony silence he went on. "Besides that's not true. You care about me."

Sherlock grumbled. "Fine, fine. Yes, I suppose." If he was willing to admit it, Molly Hooper was growing on him. _Just a little_. He would never tell John, though.

"You suppose what?"

_Exactly. He is finding this far too amusing._ "I suppose that you-"

"And?"

"And Lestrade, though the Hufflepuff is always-"

"_And_?"

"_And Molly_ – there are you happy? – are…acceptable."

Ah well, John would take that for now. No use pushing Sherlock too far at the moment. But Sherlock wasn't done.

"I've been led to believe, John, that a _friend_ would give me vital, necessary information."

"Look, Sherlock, it's not that I'm mad at you or anything. It's just not my information to tell. If you really do want to know, why don't you ask her yourself? She might be willing to talk to you about it."

Sherlock leaned back in his chair and thought. _Perhaps a direct approach would work. _He thought back to when she told him about the spell she had devised. That had been easy enough – although it wasn't information she was actively trying to hide, really.

"Are you aware of who the _he_ is?"

"What?" John looked up again, confused at the question.

"Molly had mumbled something about _not hearing from him_, that he _always sends her something_. And this _he_ wants her to accomplish something."

It took a second and then John figured out just who was being referred to. _Oh this was far too good to pass up. _"Sherlock Holmes, do I detect a note of jealousy?" His voice mimicked his incredulous thoughts. _For someone who constantly cautioned against jumping to conclusions, the genius next to him sure had jumped the gun on this one._

"Don't be daft, of course not." Sherlock had crossed his arms defensively. "Just answer the question."

John waved him away, lips twitching. "Just go and talk to her Romeo." And with that Sherlock stood up while he huffed indignantly, and stalked off muttering about incompetence and fools. _Only Sherlock would get so upset; couldn't resist. _Anyone passing by now would be wondering why the 6th year Gryffindor was grinning so widely at his books and parchment.

* * *

Thursday afternoon saw Molly Hooper, Greg Lestrade, and Sally Donovan locked in conversion over a game of exploding snap. The game was just something to occupy them with as they chatted, taking a much needed break from school work. Molly mostly listened as Greg and Sally discussed future careers, or rather, aurors.

She piped in every now and then, but had no real interest in entering law enforcement so was content to listen to them talk so animatedly.

"Think about it," Greg continued on from some point he was making, "it's the perfect way to help people but also have an exciting career."

Sally nodded her agreement. "Yeah, definitely. I bet it's just like in that series I lent you – you know, the one written by that retired auror detective."

"Oh man, that would be fantastic! Whaddya think, Molly – me, an auror detective?" Greg nudged Molly and gave her a serious 'Auror Lestrade, here to save the day' face.

Molly pretended to ponder this and made her next move in their game before replying. "You would be brilliant." She beamed at him.

Sally laughed at his antics. "Hey chief," she joked, "I hope you've got more up your sleeve than that face else nobody will be calling on you for help. At least I wouldn't."

"Yeah, well, wouldn't you know that I have an entire arsenal of faces just waiting to be of service."

Donovan rolled her eyes at him. "So, faces? Is that going to be your division?"

Molly sat there and shook her head at the two similarly minded classmates. Two days ago she had finally decided that it was time to talk to Greg about her dad. Greg had been worrying about her and kept asking if something was wrong (_of course he would notice something was off this week)_, and she knew she couldn't continue to keep him out of the loop. _He deserved to know. He's my best friend._ As expected, Greg had been nothing but kind to her about it and didn't resent her for taking her time in telling him. Her heart swelled knowing she had such a wonderful person beside her.

Telling Greg had taken off some of the pressure that had been building up inside of her. It was as if a weight she hadn't known was there had lifted as she confided in person she trusted most, or in addition to her father. Knowing she could talk to John about it had helped as well, but the relief was even greater now.

She had also finally had news from her dad a few days ago. It was a short missive, with him basically mentioning suspicions from doctors around him at the regular owl appearances outside his room's window. He would have to be more careful he had said. She still worried after him; he hadn't mentioned anything about his condition.

Unbeknownst to the small group, a familiar dark-haired Slytherin was now watching them intently. He made no move to join or engage in any sort of conversation but observed quietly, hidden from their view.


	9. Chapter 9

**Ok, another chapter finished! I had a completely different scenario in mind when first approaching this chapter, but when I sat down over the last few days to write it out it just took an entirely different turn (Sherlock forms a plan, a plan that requires his undercover skills). So bear with me and I hope you enjoy this one. As always, thanks for reading and a big thank you to everyone who is following/has favorited and/or has left a review - you guys are the best and continue to put a smile on my face :)**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Thank you ACD, Moffat, Gatiss, and Rowling for your wonderful creations.**

* * *

Sherlock Holmes didn't like being told what to do.

Telling Sherlock Holmes what to do was like asking a house elf to take a day off, reasoning with a Hungarian Horntail that it could spare one egg from the nest for your breakfast, or putting a five year old with unknown magical abilities in time out – essentially, trouble.

John Watson was normally well aware that telling Sherlock what to do most often lead to one of two things; a silent tantrum from the teenage wizard or some serious word twisting and manipulation of the original idea. Or rather, one followed by the other resulting in a convoluted scheme inspired by the tantrum induced hours spent in his mind palace. Yes, he normally knew this.

_What the hell is he up to now?_

After Sherlock had left the library in a huff, John hadn't seen him for the rest of the day or the next. _Did he even eat yesterday?_ He had finally caught a glimpse of his scarce friend today as he was on his way to the Quidditch pitch, but he would have sworn Sherlock had Ravenclaw robes on. Before he could do anything, Sherlock had rushed off as John was swept away by the growing crowd. _Bugger. I hope he's not doing anything stupid. Can't really worry about that now though._

* * *

Sherlock had been tailing Molly for two and a half days. _"Just ask her." Just ask her? Please, John. My capabilities are far more superior than that._ "Just ask her," he repeated in an offended mutter. _And be ill prepared with small fragments of information? Hmph, right._

No, instead Sherlock Holmes had been working. Working, planning, and playing the part of the patient spy gathering intelligence. First there was the matter of ascertaining the subject of this entire business. _The letter. That would be the key._

He recalled what he had overheard the night he followed Molly to the lake. Sooner or later she was going to be getting another letter, of that he had little doubt. All he had to do was get a hold of that letter. _A fairly simple matter, if done correctly._

The timing couldn't have been better for his plan. She had received a letter with this morning's post, giving Sherlock a perfect opportunity to put said plan into action. It was now early afternoon, and Molly had ample time to place the letter back in her dormitory. _No doubt she keeps ever single letter. Sentiment._

John had spotted him briefly as everyone was heading out to watch the Quidditch match but he had ducked out of sight before he could be confronted. Sherlock had been avoiding him since their conversation in the library - that much was true. But it couldn't be helped if he wanted to get this done. John would ask dull questions and give boring lectures, and his interference would slow things down considerably.

It was for the best that John would be henceforth occupied with his game. With any luck, Molly would be there as usual. _She isn't enamored with the sport like most of the imbeciles here, yet she always goes to support John when Gryffindor plays._

He still wasn't sure why, but she was always asking him if he was going to watch John play, as his friend of course. On the few occasions he had been so bored he had decided to go as well, Sherlock had accompanied Molly on the condition they not sit in the Gryffindor section.

Although Molly never understood why, Sherlock and Sally Donovan had a mutual understanding between each other that consisted of negative feelings. To make matters worse, Anderson and Donovan had begun to frequent each other's company as of late which made both the Slytherin and Gryffindor sections a danger zone now.

_Not that it matters much_. Sherlock shook off a vague and unwanted feeling of guilt as he stood glancing around his surroundings inside the Ravenclaw common room.

He had ducked into a classroom after dodging John and pulled out a small vile before placing a single hair within the concoction. Sherlock always kept polyjuice potion on hand with an organized assortment of various persons' hairs. Others might have found that odd and perhaps a tad bit creepy, but Sherlock frequently managed to find good use for his 'disguise supply'.

A familiar sensation coursed through his body as his face changed and his frame filled out a bit. As he stuffed the empty vile into a pocket of his robes, he reentered the hallway. Only a few stragglers and the odd student remained as he made his way to the staircase.

Lestrade, surprisingly, was the one person to run into him. Luckily the Hufflepuff was in a hurry to catch the start of the match. For when Sherlock had unthinkingly nodded back at his greeting with a, "Lestrade", the Head Boy hadn't given much thought to it. Not many of Greg's peers referred to him by his surname like that. Sherlock had berated himself at the possible giveaway.

Regardless, he had made it up to RavenclawTower without incident. _The door's riddle to enter was mediocre at best, as usual._ By the time he was a third year, Sherlock had successfully managed to discover and sneak his way into all three of the other Houses' common rooms.

He walked up to a large statue of Rowena Ravenclaw, opened the door next to it, and glanced up at the winding staircase which split off into two directions before splitting further. He exhaled in resignation and began walking up. As soon as he made a right, the stairs began shifting. _Right. Bloody stairs._

Though Sherlock had figured as much, he hadn't been positive that every girl's dormitory staircase was enchanted to become a slide. _But apparently Ravenclaw males weren't to be trusted either_. Past experience told him that a gender swap using polyjuice potion didn't work either _(and no need to repeat that experience unless absolutely necessary)_; the stairs were more intelligent than most people, it seemed.

_Ah well, now I know. Next tactic. _"Accio letter." He visualized the letter he'd glimpsed earlier clearly in his mind as he pointed his wand towards Molly's dormitory door. Nothing happened at first and Sherlock waited to see if he would have to try something else.

But then a soft tapping noise caught his attention. The disguised Sherlock turned to see a letter trying unsuccessfully to get through a closed window in the common room. He quickly released the latch on the window and snatched the letter.

With a smug smile he looked eagerly at the folded paper in his hands. _Well Molly Hooper, it's about time for me to unravel your mystery._

The letter wasn't long, and as Sherlock scanned the note he began to frown. _The "he" is her father? I had assumed…_Sherlock smacked his head lightly for betraying his own logic when approaching the unknown – _never come in with preconceived notions, always give the problem a clean slate so as to fairly assess every possibility_.

_Her father was sick, he had an aggressive form of cancer to be precise. He was currently being treated at St Bart's Hospital in London, but he was having trouble communicating often with his daughter due to the non-muggle mail method as well as a worsening condition, though he wasn't being straightforward about the latter._

_This is it? _It wasn't quite the exciting secret he had hoped to discover. _This is what I have been spending my effort into solving? How have I not noticed this? Have I missed some cue of emotional stress or has she not been exhibiting any signs of turmoil? _Sherlock ruffled his hair with a noise somewhere between a sigh and a growl.

The former seemed plausible; emotions weren't things he normally paid mind to. But for _Molly Hooper_ to have kept hidden any signs of such news was…unexpected. _Her face was always so readable, the emotions written there clear as daylight._

_Still, it doesn't explain her odd behavior leaving the castle at night. She wasn't trying to sneak off to London, so what is the purpose?_

It seemed that one part of the mystery had been revealed to him, but the other still lay out of his grasp and still held the promise of something exciting. Sherlock was pondering over this with his back turned to common room entrance when the door opened to let someone in.

At the sound Sherlock turned to see a small girl walk in. He focused his attention on her briefly and decided she was a second year student. Half-blood, had a younger sister, and she had a natural knack for transfiguration. _Well at least I can save some time in putting the letter back._

"Excuse me, do you know Molly Hooper?" The girl looked up at him, startled at being addressed by an older student.

"Yes, 'course I do," she mumbled. "She's the really nice prefect, the one who always hangs out with that Hufflepuff boy." Her face reddened a bit. Sherlock fought the urge to sigh out loud. _I can do this._

"Yes," he responded slowly, weighing his words, "that would be her."

There was an awkward silence developing when the girl spoke up again. "Um, are you looking for her?"

"Actually, could you do me a favor?" and here Sherlock placed an arm behind his head and adopted a somewhat abashed expression. He held up the folded letter. "You see, she asked if I could return this for her, but the stairs are, you know." He shrugged.

Her face showed no recognition of what "you know" meant. _Patience, patience._

"Follow me," he said shortly and they returned to the staircase leading to the girl's dorms. He took a step, and the girl beside him watched in delight as the stairs became a long, winding slide.

"Wow! What do they do that for?"

"The founders desired a way to protect the virtue of the females."

"The what of the who?" Sherlock continued to take deep, internal breaths to prevent himself from snapping at her.

Instead, he deadpanned, "No boys allowed." The girl giggled at him, and he glanced down at her. He held out the letter. "If you please."

She looked between him and the letter. "Oh! Is this a…" She giggled some more.

"What?" His role was slipping, he could hear the irritation slipping into his voice.

"Do you _like _her?" She asked causing Sherlock to gape a bit. _Great, first John and now this annoying slip of a witch?_ "It's ok," she continued gently, "I won't tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me." Her smile was goofy but sincere. She took the paper from his hand. "I'll put it on her dresser for you."

The girl began to walk up the stairs, handling the note with care. Sherlock turned to make his exit, but was stopped by her voice. "Wait!" She seemed unsure of herself now.

"Yes?" Sherlock prompted.

"Will you, um, step on the stairs when I come back down?"

Sherlock smirked. He may be straightforward and blunt, but he wasn't heartless. _She is helping me, _he reasoned.

"You've got thirty seconds." With that she turned and dashed up the remainder of the stairs and through one of the doors. She returned not long after and huffed out a triumphant, "26 seconds!"

With a roll of his eyes Sherlock activated the enchantment on the stairs and she slid down with a laugh. "Why don't they just make all the stairs into slides?"

Sherlock crossed his arms as he waited for her to brush herself off. "Personally, I think a touch of 'pirate ship' wouldn't go unappreciated in the dormitory designs."

"Pirates?" She paused to picture this. "Yes, I think that would be brilliant!"

They turned to enter the common room once more. "You're funny," the small girl continued with a smile. Sherlock was vaguely alarmed when she took his hand and pulled at his arm. "But I don't think you have to be nervous or worried," – Sherlock wondered what she was talking about until she continued – "because I think Molly will like someone like- "

Both froze as the very same Molly Hooper walked through the entrance and into the common room. "Oh hi." She seemed surprised that anyone else was in here, and her eyes were rimmed red.

Sherlock felt his stomach drop. _She's been crying. _ He watched as she silently pulled herself together more with a deep intake of breath.

"What are you guys doing? Devon I thought you would be down at the game."

Devon looked at Sherlock frantically and Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Devon.

"Hiya Molly," she began brightly. "Did you know that the stairs can become slides?." Sherlock wanted to smack his head on the closest wall as Molly spun on him with narrowed eyes.

"Yes, Devon forgot her…_lucky_ socks and had to fetch them from her room." Devon grinned and pulled up her robes to show off a pair of bright blue socks. "I was coming down from my room and she was unaware of the protection enchantment so I showed her how the stairs work."

At the sound of his voice Molly's eyes widened in surprise. He bent his head down and muttered something about having to be off whilst inching his way closer to the exit. He turned briefly to see her look at the smaller girl with confusion, trying to piece together what she was seeing.

He gave a final _not a word_ signal to Devon as he continued making his way to the door. Molly looked back and caught a fraction of his expression. Molly Hooper knew that voice, even with a slight lilt to it, and she had certainly seen that expression before, even if the face was different.

"Sherlock?" Her voice echoed her incredulity. Before she could do anything else Sherlock closed the distance to the door and threw himself outside. Molly raced across the room to the door but he had already ducked around one corner or another.

She went back inside slightly dazed and looked at Devon. Devon just shrugged.

"I think he likes you."


	10. Chapter 10

**Alright everyone, finally another update! If you didn't catch my post on tumblr, my excuse is that with Comic-Con this past weekend my focus for anything non-related to planning out events and where to be when and meeting new people was non-existent. So I'm very sorry for the delay, and I do hope you will enjoy this chapter (in which Sherlock does something nice for someone - gasp!). Thanks again to everyone who is reading the story and who has left reviews, favorited, and/or followed - all of you are just the best. Ever.**

**Renaissancebooklover108 - Yep, I just couldn't resist ending it like that ;)**

**yay - Read on to find out (though he's a very, very minor character so I'm sorry that there's not much)**

**islandgurl777 - Thank you, I'm glad you decided to check it out and so glad you're enjoying it! :D**

**Porky Poo - Thanks so much and I hope you like this chapter as much as the last ones :)**

**FeyWings - Thank you and I will continue to endeavor to do so!**

**Disclaimer: My allegiance (and credit, more importantly) lies with the great Moffat and Gatiss (who OMG I saw in person at awesome nerd parties twice this weekend - check out the blog for more ), ACD, and of course the not to be outdone J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

Molly Hooper was a witch with a dilemma, all thanks to one Sherlock Holmes. Confused as she was by his actions the other day in the Ravenclaw common room – Devon hadn't told her anymore beyond what she and Sherlock had explained – she had to talk him.

And she was sure it was him. Molly felt it her responsibility to confront Sherlock about it, but at the same time she didn't really want to see him get into trouble. So, for at least the seventh time that day, she thought to herself, _why me, why Sherlock?_

She had been trying to get his attention for the past few days, but every time a class they had together ended he would be gone before she had a chance to even stand up it seemed. Talking to him during meals would be no good, she didn't want to embarrass both of them in such a public setting. And he hadn't been seeking her out in the evenings to work on potions.

Finally she found an opportunity to approach him one afternoon. He was stalking down from the owlery as she was heading up. She paused when she saw his figure coming towards her, made all the more imposing by the scowl etched on his features.

As Sherlock noticed her below him he nodded briefly to address her. "Molly." She returned his brief greeting with a nervous smile. He continued to walk down, intending to pass her.

_Just do it. Say something. Stop him! There's no way I'm going to get a better chance._

Molly took a deep breath, gathering her strength and steeling herself. "Sherlock?" Though she couldn't help fidgeting a bit, she looked down at him with determination and purpose. He stopped and turned back to her.

_Well at least I've got his attention. Now I just have to tell him…off. Right._

"What were you doing in the Ravenclaw common room last weekend?" He instantly took on a far too innocent expression.

"I don't-"

Molly cut him off before he could brush her off. _If there's one thing I know from being constantly aware of this wizard's presence, it's at least when I'm bloody talking to him._ "Don't. I know it was you so just, don't."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes a bit, intrigued now and unused to Molly interrupting him or calling him out. He remained silent but tipped his head slightly in acknowledgement. Awkwardly she made to continue, searching for the right words.

"Look, I'm. I'm sure you were doing something for a case. But, as a prefect I- you can't be in the other common rooms. Ok? Because, it isn't…fair, to the privacy of the other students. Plus there has been some confusion trying to explain to Devon what happened because she really took to you when you were, well, not _you_. Actually it's getting a bit awkward with her winking at a very confused Jason whenever we're in the same room and I still am not sure why she's doing that.."

While Sherlock didn't respond beyond slightly raising his eyebrows, she was relieved that he was at least listening to what she was saying _(however incoherently)_.

"But if there's something you need, you have me. As, as a friend I mean!" _Oh god, why am I still talking?_ "If you need something for a case and at least it's in RavenclawTower, or somewhere I can be as a prefect, you just have to ask. I'm not saying I'll be as good as you or John, but I will do my best. I mean, I know that you don't really do the friends thing – except for John – but, um, yeah I'm there- here? Well just ask and I can try and save you some trouble, anyway."

_Great. I've said what I had to – good job Molly – and now I can just shut my mouth until he's gone._

She looked to him for any sort of reaction. Sherlock gave a slow nod in which she could almost see his mind working quickly and methodically to sort through her words.

He began to turn away but changed his mind and faced her directly again as he asked, "How did you know it was me?"

"What?"

"My disguise. It's obvious that there is room for improvement. Though no one but my brother has ever seen through one of my polyjuice disguises before," he mused out loud before directing his question at her once more. "So what was it that gave me away to you?" He looked curious, almost intensely so, and waited for an answer.

Molly became flustered. _How am I supposed to answer this?_ "I just…know you."

"Know me?" Her words churned around in his brain, surely to be dissected at a later time in his mind palace.

"Yes," _How does one explain this?_ "It was you in that room. The way you hold yourself is so…you. I mean you looked different and you did hold yourself differently, and spoke differently, but it was still…I saw Sherlock."

"You see me." It was a statement rather than a question, one he was mulling over.

She took a moment before deciding to just reply, "Well, yes."

"Oh and Jason is far different around the younger students as well," she smiled as she thought about the very shy seventh year Sherlock had been disguised as.

Sherlock did not share her smile but instead mumbled, "Jason, Jason…"

"Yes," Molly furrowed her brows at him. _Did he really not know? _"The wizard you were impersonating?"

"Ah," he nodded, "yes, that was his name. Hard to keep track of all of them now and then."

Molly wasn't even going to ask about what that meant. Getting her point across about not going infiltrating the other houses was enough for today.

"Yes, well, thank you Molly for your enlightening input."

As he turned to go, Molly hesitated before throwing caution to the wind and calling out to him. "Sherlock! I just um, I hope you consider what I've said."

He nodded and continued down the stairs once more, exactly as he'd looked when they met, though his scowl had disappeared.

Molly exhaled as he the stairs took him out of sight. She continued up and sent the letter off to her dad with instructions for the owl to be as sneaky as possible (though all she got in response was a confused turn of the owl's head).

* * *

Another two days passed with nothing out of the ordinary and Molly still hardly catching sight of Sherlock beyond classes. She thought that maybe he would have stopped avoiding her after their conversation by the owlery, but that didn't seem to be the case. _Sherlock is probably just busy doing Sherlock-y things. Who says he's even avoiding me?_

Molly reassured herself that there was no way she could be the cause of his current behavior, he had much more interesting things occupying his mind. She tried not to be disappointed, then, when only a few other students walked past the potions classroom that night and snickered _dungeon bat_ as they saw her. No Sherlock showed up to experiment with potions for yet another night.

Since he hadn't shown up she simply continued to work on her personal project for her dad before doing her rounds and saying good night to Greg. She wanted to get practice in where she could, and this way she wouldn't lose sleep over it.

So as Molly walked up the final flight of stairs and turned the corner, it was with surprise that she looked up to answer the door's riddle to find a silent Sherlock Holmes staring at her instead.

That wasn't quite right, she saw Sherlock Holmes and Toby both staring at her. And her tired brain seemed to think that the two were competing in some way.

"Oh! It's you!" _Well at least I can state the obvious. _"Sherlock, you should be in your dorm, it's after hours now and you could get caught out of bed."

Sherlock gave her a look that all but said, 'Catch _me_? Please Molly.' Toby came up and rubbed against her legs, and Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the feline. She reached down to pick her cat up absentmindedly.

"So…why _are_ you here?" While she had no doubt that Sherlock could deduce why someone would be standing outside at this late hour, she was not Sherlock and she wasn't going to attempt to be him either.

"1:30 tomorrow morning, your common room. Be there. And make sure it's just you."

"What's this about?" Molly would be lying if she said she wasn't a bit apprehensive about his _(maybe not to Sherlock but to the rest of the world)_ strange request.

"Do you trust me Molly?" His eyes bore into hers, _and_ _damn it_, he may just be manipulating her but she felt her apprehension slip away as she nodded an affirmative to him all the same.

"Then do so." He made to leave as Molly stood in the same spot with Toby, still trying to process the unexpected encounter. A second later her mouth caught up with her brain.

"Hang on!" She whisper-shouted to him. "What if someone else is in the common room?"

He smirked at her and spoke with a knowing tone. "Oh I think you'll come up with something." An eyebrow arched up suggestively. "A spell perhaps."

_Oh? OH. Yes that could work._

She supposed he saw comprehension on her face as Sherlock had bid her a quiet goodnight and disappeared. But as she turned to go into her own common room, Molly would have sworn she heard him actually hiss at her cat for the briefest of seconds. Toby did look rather smug at something over her shoulder. _I definitely need some sleep._

* * *

Molly had been distracted all day and it was fairly clear to those around her. Greg had noticed and asked her about it at dinner.

_"It's just something Sherlock said yesterday."_

_"What about?" He looked interested but also extremely suspicious._

_"I'll let you know when I figure it out."_

_When I figure it out tonight._ She didn't have rounds to do that night and she didn't feel much like going down to the dungeons to brew or practice. _What if Sherlock needs me here earlier? Or something goes wrong?_

Instead, she had worked almost obsessively on her homework for the past four hours. _Well, no work for the weekend now._ She checked the time again. Only five minutes until the half hour. Luckily the last student who had been in the room with her had gone to bed twenty minutes ago and the room was silent now but for her quiet shuffling. While Sherlock had a point that she could just use her variation on the "repello" spell, she really didn't want to have to use it on any of her classmates, and especially her housemates.

As the minutes ticked away Molly looked around, half expecting that Sherlock was going to make a sudden appearance in RavenclawTower again. At 1:30 precisely, she heard a sudden crackling.

Whipping her head around she caught sight of green flames in the fireplace. _What? Why would he-_

She was cut off mid-thought by a wholly unexpected, but wholly familiar face forming in the flames. "Molly? Is this thing working? Strangest sort of telephone I've ever used…"

Molly beamed and ran around the couches to place herself in front of the fire. "Dad!"

They chatted for a good while before her dad had claimed he didn't want to keep her up too late. When she asked how this had even happened, he said that some very official looking men had just shown up a few days ago.

They had explained to him that he could talk with his daughter and how the communication would work. Apparently they had told him that they would take care of the rest to make sure no on in the hospitable would know or interrupt. She lay in bed beaming and feeling happier than she had in a while.

* * *

Sherlock was laying on the couch in the Slytherin common room, hands in a prayer pose under his chin, wandering a hall of his mind palace that had a begun to have a scent suspiciously similar to that of a quiet Ravenclaw prefect that had told him off three days ago near the owlery.

A crackling in his own common room fireplace had him lazily opening his eyes, but refusing to turn and address the man appearing in the flames directly. "Well?"

"It's done. Miss Hooper spoke with her father and no problems arose." Mycroft Holmes peered at his brother in much the same bored manner.

"Good. Now leave."

"Not even a thank you, brother? Mother would be so disappointed." Sherlock scoffed and gave a mocking 'thank you _brother_ _dear'_.

"I must ask though; you have never so willingly asked for my help before. Why now? Who is she?"

"_Goodnight_ Mycroft."


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello everyone, another chapter awaits you! I'm going to be a little mushy here, but I am continually astounded that so many people have followed my story and it just really makes me feel warm and fuzzy. So thank you guys for your continuing interest in the story and to especially to everyone that has reviewed and been so wonderful. This chapter is more of a reaction chapter from the last one, but hopefully you will like the end of this one :)**

**Also - DOCTOR WHO RIGHT NOW !**

**Disclaimer: I'm not ACD, Moffat, Gatiss, or Rowling - only playing with their ideas - but I want to thank them for their brilliance.**

* * *

"Blimey Molly!" A wide-eyed Greg Lestrade exclaimed to his friend. Molly had just explained to him what had happened the night _(early morning?)_ before with the conversation with her dad.

The more he heard about it, the more Greg realized just how much thought had gone into the 'operation'. "Jesus," he breathed, "they must have pulled some strings to go into a major hospital and set that up."

Molly nodded in agreement. "How did he even do it?"

Greg responded immediately, "Mycroft." The second the impeccably dressed men were mentioned in the very organized, no nonsense set up, there was little doubt that Mycroft Holmes was involved.

"I'm not sure if you'd know him or not, he was a seventh year when you were a first year. The elder Holmes brother is," Greg struggled to find the words to describe him. "…sort of a more well-mannered, but more dangerous version of Sherlock. Aloof, cool demeanor, brilliant, to the point. Very Slytherin. It all makes sense though; I hear he's working for the Ministry now and has done very well for himself for someone so young."

Molly vaguely remembered meeting Sherlock's brother four years earlier after the…incident. Actually, she had seen him around quite often after that, mostly when she was around Sherlock but a few times when she wasn't. _Sherlock never seemed to notice, though._

"I remember now. He was always carrying around an umbrella…Sherlock never mentions him though – I can't believe I had nearly forgotten he _had_ a brother." Molly could recall the elder Holmes having been very polite, if not distant, to her the few times they had interacted.

"What's what now? Why are we talking about Mycroft?" John Watson popped out of a small group of passing students and hopped onto the alcove ledge with them. "Sorry, saw you guys and heard you say 'Mycroft', and my interest was piqued."

Greg grinned at him and shifted a bit to make room.

"Wanted to say hello to you two anyway." John continued and smiled brightly at them, though his gaze lingered on Molly questioningly.

"Hi John," her equally bright reply and gentle smile seemed to satisfy him for the moment as he settled in, back against the wall and facing Molly. Greg was sat in the middle, back against a window overlooking the greenhouses, and Molly shifted to mirror John so she could address both of them.

"So, then, what do you know about this business?" Greg asked John directly.

"What business? Something with Mycroft?" He shrugged and shook his head. "I've no idea."

"Sherlock hasn't said anything to you?" _It wasn't your idea? _Molly asked.

"'Course not. Half the time he talks to me I'm not even there, and when I am, he assumes I'm following his train of thought."

"Yeah, sounds about right." Greg mused aloud. "Well, I suppose we could fill you in. Molly?"

She couldn't see any reason why she shouldn't tell John, so Molly began to recount the late night encounter with Sherlock two nights ago and the Floo conversation last night. By the end, John was gawking.

"I don't believe it." He spoke slowly, still wrapping his mind around the fact that Sherlock has seemingly done something nice for someone with no ulterior motive.

"Well, I suppose he just had the resources at hand so it wasn't so much trouble for him." Molly didn't want to make a big deal out of it – after all, maybe Sherlock had just been the messenger and had no idea what this whole thing was about. _Come to think of it, I never told him about my dad._

"No, Molly, you don't understand. Sherlock may have the resources, but he _hates _Mycroft. They're arch nemeses!" John paused to mumble, "However ridiculous that is" before continuing. "I've only seen him ask Mycroft for a favor a handful of times over the years, and it has never been willingly or directly. And Mycroft, like Sherlock, is not an overly sentimental guy sooo," he made a wild gesture to convey his surprise with the situation as he sought the right words, "this is a pretty unique situation."

Molly blushed at the implication of the trouble Sherlock went to for her. "Maybe Mycroft isn't as bad and Sherlock thinks," she voiced, recalling her previous thoughts about the times when the umbrella toting Holmes was seen keeping a subtle eye out for his younger brother during their first year.

John snorted. "Mycroft, just being a good big brother? He sure has an interesting way of showing that he cares on most days."

"Yeah, well, no one ever credited the Holmes brothers for doing things normally." Greg added sarcastically. John rolled his eyes in agreement and Molly snorted at the blatant truth of the statement.

"Still, that explains the mood he's been in all week if he's been in contact with Mycroft," John mused. Curious about what had occurred when Sherlock spoke with Molly, he asked, "When did you tell him about your dad, then?"

"That's the thing," Molly began, "I, uh, didn't." The three of stared at each other for a minute until John started to panic. An image of Sherlock in Ravenclaw robes sprung forth in his mind.

"Damn it, I told him! I told him to just go and talk to you!" A hand ran down his face in an all too familiar gesture. There was a pause and Greg and Molly watched a mix of comprehension and defeat wash over his face. "Oh. Oh no. I _told_ him. Ughh." His expression of unsurprised irritation was almost comical. "For future reference," he pointed out, "if either of you ever needs him to do something, never. Ever. Make it a straightforward request or demand."

Molly had taken up a similar line of thinking about last Saturday when Sherlock had taken the polyjuice potion, the wheels in her mind turning. _Would he have really…? _Despite her new suspicions about the _why_, she had a feeling that John wasn't aware of Sherlock's actions and her soft spot for the unruly Slytherin made her stay silent on that end.

"You know," she said instead, "I'm sure there are a hundred and one ways he could have deduced the information from me."

Greg nodded. "From any of us."

John looked slightly appeased. _They're right, whatever Sherlock was up to last weekend is probably unrelated. And ok, if I'm being honest this is not the worst thing I've caught him doing, and look, it's not as if he's gone and done something horrendous. This time._

The conversation moved on as the three discussed how Molly's father was and their plans for the upcoming Christmas holiday. Molly excused herself at one point with the intention of finding Sherlock. John pointed out the window below them at the greenhouses to where he'd known Sherlock was headed earlier and both boys wished her luck.

* * *

Sherlock silently watched in the greenhouse for a reaction from the sycamore branches in front of him. Nothing appeared to change, but when he sent a small flame from his wand to the collection, they were resistant to catching. _Excellent._

He looked up at the sound of the doors opening and closing, and watched as Molly brushed a bit of snow off of her cloak and glanced around. Sherlock made no move to expose himself, but a moment later she spotted him, mouth forming a tiny "oh", and began gravitating a bit nervously toward the plant laden corner where he sat.

She pointed behind her as she greeted him, "Had to check the other two greenhouses first – I was starting to think I'd missed you." Her smile faltered when he made no reaction to her words. "Ahh, John um, told me you were round here checking things out for a case…"

"Yes, I was."

"Oh. Well. Have you, er, figured it out then?"

Sherlock heaved a heavy sigh. "Solved that ages ago, too easy and far too unimaginative. It was that seventh year Gryffindor whose hair color changes by the week. I only came to ascertain the amount of sneezewort missing from the greenhouses, to prove that it was a Beffudlement Draught – made incorrectly – which sent the Hufflepuff boy to the Hospital Wing yesterday. Notify Lestrade for me, will you?"

"Uhh sure." Molly recalled Greg telling her about the incident at lunch the previous day. It all sounded like a rather unfortunate business. She glanced down to see him focused once more on a pile of wood in front of him. _He's not going to bring it up, my dad, his brother, none of it. _"So what are you doing now, then?" Molly gestured to the wood in front of him. "Is it for another case?"

"No. I'm attempting to ascertain certain properties of sycamore and see how the wood reacts to various outside influences."

"Oh." _His brain never stops, does it? He's always got dozens of the most interesting inquiries running around in there I bet. _"You're wand is sycamore." It wasn't a question at first but Molly quickly added on an embarrassed, "Um, isn't it?"

Without looking up Sherlock nodded in the affirmative.

"Is that the reason, then? For using sycamore I mean. You're trying to learn more about your wand wood."

Sherlock's hand faltered slightly as he made to pour some sort of liquid onto a particular leaf-laden branch and he looked almost surprised. Almost. "How perceptive of you."

Molly's cheeks reddened and she glanced away. _Is he being sarcastic or serious? _Rather than respond and risk sounding foolish, Molly chose to quietly watch him for the moment. Surprisingly, Sherlock was the one to break the silence, only briefly looking away from his experimenting and fierce scribbling to catch her eye.

"Are you interested in wand lore?"

The Ravenclaw beside him shrugged. "Yes I've read a few things on the matter and I think I held up Ms. Olivander's customers last summer during my trip to Diagon Alley by pestering her with so many questions about my own wand. But I suppose as much as anyone, really."

"You would be surprised at how few have an interest in the intricacies and properties that endow the tools we use to channel and control our magic. Fools," he muttered.

There was silence once more before Molly spoke up again.

"What do you think has the most potential to become volatile when performing magic, dragon heartstring core or a phoenix feather core?" It seemed to be the right thing to say.

Her lips quirked up as she listened to him dive enthusiastically into an explanation about the properties when mixed with specific woods and personalities. She would jump in now and then to point out her own observations or theories, and Sherlock seemed almost pleased that he had a willing subject on the receiving end of one of his tirades of theories and knowledge.

Almost an hour after she had entered, Molly found herself sitting on the stool next to his, occasionally handing him pruning shears or performing a bit of magic when he needed another hand. While some may criticize the pair as odd, or her as a pushover, Molly Hooper was content. The whole scene just felt very…companionable. _Right_.

Watching Sherlock was endlessly fascinating. The way his hands moved which such precision, or how his lips would curve up just the slightest bit when a reaction proved his logic to be true, and the way in which he would buzz with energy when something wholly unexpected would occur and he would hastily write down everything he was seeing. Plus, Molly's own mind was happily soaking up so much new information from his eccentric tests.

Only one other student had come in to water a small section of plants, but otherwise the greenhouse where they sat remained unoccupied but for them. As it the sun shifted positions across the sky, Molly quietly said she had to get going and stood.

She began to fidget as she tried to find the words to say for which she had been seeking him out in the first place.

"Sherlock?" He continued to describe sketch something out from the last experiment but glanced at her, letting her know she had his attention. "I just," she paused to exhale and let go of her nerves. "I just wanted to say thank you for last night. You didn't have to go through the trouble, but you did. And it's one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me."

Her face went red but she steeled herself and flitted toward him for a brief moment. "I'm sorry, it's just, I wanted…umm, a proper thank you. Bye!" Her exit was almost comical as she walked as fast as she could while trying to make it look as if she wasn't beating a retreat.

Sherlock felt the most confusing urge to call out to her as she left and stop her from leaving. Instead he sat watching her all but panic her way out the door, face warming as he contemplated the pair of lips that had, for the briefest of moments, made contact with his cheek.

Had Molly stayed, she would have known that, for once, she had been the one to make Sherlock Holmes blush - just the slightest bit.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hiya everyone, hope you've had good weekends. I bring you a new chapter and the 'reveal', as it were, for Molly's secret studies. Sherlock doesn't directly find out, but someone else does. Hope you enjoy this one as we're getting closer to the end. Thanks all for reading, for leaving reviews and favoriting/following. Enjoy!**

**Renaissancebooklover108 - I like that! Intellect buddies ^^ (and they totally are)**

**yay - So glad you liked both scenes! I had been wanting the three of them to have a discussion for some time, and it was fun to get into that dynamic :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own these brilliant characters or setting. I salute ACD, Moffat, Gatiss, and J.K. Rowling for them, respectively.**

* * *

Two weeks had passed relatively quickly, the castle being filled with more Christmas spirit each day. It was hard to feel down when everybody, professors included, was buzzing with energy and anticipation for the holiday.

It was two days now, only two more days and they were free! _Until January that is. _Molly was particularly excited this year, though part of the excitement was due to anxiety. She wanted to see her dad, but more than anything she wanted to see him better. Even so, she couldn't quite find it in her to be sad when everyone else was so merry. If anything, Molly was feeling hopeful. _Christmas is a time for miracles after all, right?_

She found herself up at a rather late hour in the common room, too many thoughts buzzing around to sleep. Molly had been rather distracted in classes as of late, but at least she wasn't alone in that. Of course there were the ever standard dung bombs, "misplaced" exploding snap cards, hiccoughing sweets, and the like that frequented this time of the term.

But her mouth broke into a small grin as she thought about her favorite moments of the week. Sally sassing Professor Binns to no ends in History of Magic earlier that day had led to the most interesting discussion yet from the ghost, and Lestrade bailing her out of Charms on Monday with the most ridiculous excuse ever _(that had actually worked)_ had been absolutely brilliant.

With a surge of energy she dove back into her attempts at the spell. Though she hadn't been working on it as consistently for the past few weeks, she really wanted to give it another shot before she would have to give up until after break. If she could get it right now, she would be able to show her dad and it wouldn't actually break the law about underage magic use because she wouldn't need to perform any spell. _Everybody loves a loophole…_

Fifteen minutes later and she held her wand tightly as she pronounced the spell for a third time that night. Nothing. _Ugh, why can't I get this? _She lowered her arm and sighed dejectedly. The more she failed, the harder it became to press on.

"Hi Molly, all right?"

Molly jumped at the unexpected quiet voice. "Blimey!" She took a deep breath to calm down. "I wasn't expecting anyone else to be down here. Is everything ok, Devon? Why are you up?"

"Oh I'm perfectly fine! Just not in the mood to sleep right now, you know? Why are _you_ up?"

Molly gave her a look. "Are you generally so cheeky at two in the morning?"

Devon shrugged. "Mum says I'm cheeky all the bloody time." She beamed proudly and Molly snorted and shook her head at the second year she had gotten to know better in recent weeks thanks, inadvertently, to Sherlock. "But really, what are you doing? Looks intense," she added as she saw the notes spread out on Molly's lap and at her feet.

"Well…" Molly wasn't sure what to do. _What could it hurt to tell Devon about what I'm trying to do?_ _If I never get it, this twelve year old isn't going to hold it over me. _She sighed. "It's a bit silly, I'm afraid."

Devon flopped down in one of the arm chairs next to Molly. "That's ok, I think silly is good!"

"Of course you do," Molly deadpanned.

"Really though! Think about a world without silliness in it," Devon closed her eyes for a moment. "Nope. Can't do it." She looked back at Molly expectantly.

"Ok. Have you ever heard of animagi?"

Devon's eyes lit up. "Oh yeah! Mum says her granddad was an animagus. Oh, those stories were always my and my sister's favorite. His animal was a mole – can you believe that? It's brilliant." She smiled at some particularly fond memory before getting back to Molly. "So that's it then, you're trying to become an animagus? Wicked! It's pretty advanced magic, though, isn't it?"

Molly nodded and slumped in her chair. "Yes, and that's why _trying_ is the key word there."

"Why is it silly though?"

"It's silly because…it is. I've been keeping it a secret and losing sleep practicing only at night, and all because I'm scared of others finding out. I think I've always known in the back of my mind that it's a wasted effort, and I just don't want someone finding out that I tried and failed, I guess. It's terrifying, if it makes any sense."

Devon nodded and seemed to make sense of her words. "I don't like being laughed at either when I mess up, especially when I was trying really hard to make something work." The two sat quietly for a moment and Molly smiled sadly to think her small companion understood so acutely.

It wasn't long before Devon perked up, though. "Oh! But maybe that's why you haven't been able to do it!" At Molly's confused expression she went on. "My great granddad did it by accident the day he got a promotion. Dad says he wasn't sober, whatever that means…something about too much pumpkin juice…Anyway, anyway, he wasn't thinking about failing at all! He just did it, and did it like he was going to do it. Right?"

"Uhhh," Molly was doing her best to follow the excited girl's speech beside her. Well _Molly Hooper, it looks like you need to find some alcohol. _She snickered internally at the notion. _What would Greg say?_

But Devon had a point. "Yeah, I see what you're saying." Still, the younger of the Ravenclaws wasn't finished.

"See, my parents are always saying, "Devon, no one can take away from you the effort you put into something." Her voice was comically lower and her finger wagged itself at Molly, presumably mimicking her parents. "Our character is defined by how we approach the things that challenge us." She giggled as she finished. "They get really carried away with that speech – it goes on. We hear it _all_ the time."

Molly Hooper mulled this over. She had just admitted to thinking she was being foolish for trying from the start. For a spell that demanded true character, it was no wonder she was making little progress when doubting her own self. _Alright then. I've hit a roadblock. But I will just have to work my way through because I'm Molly Hooper, and I don't give up. Not on my family, not on my friends, and not on myself._

As she arrived at this conclusion with a determination that suited her, Molly smiled. "Thanks Devon. I think that's just the sort of sense I needed to hear." Devon beamed back at her.

"And your parents sound like very smart people, I'm sure you make you make them very proud." Despite her age and knack for goofiness Molly was grateful for Devon's insight, and felt she couldn't have asked for a better person to confess her doubts to. "Right. The two of us should really be off to bed now. Come on, then."

Devon groaned, wanting to protest, but dragged herself off the chair at Molly's stern, perfect face. Molly made sure the girl went into her dorm room before climbing the stairs further to reach her own. She mulled over the source of her anxieties relating to her efforts with becoming an animagus as she lie in bed. Getting to the root of the problem and letting it go would be her best shot to see if she could become one.

* * *

The following day John found himself being surrounded by a small Ravenclaw girl. _Small, but certainly not lacking in energy._

She came up and greeted him with a nod. "Mr. Watson."

"Um, yes? Can I help you?" She looked vaguely familiar.

"Just waiting for Sherlock. This is a new prearranged meeting point should I have something for him."

"Right…well, yes, he usually meets me around this time after our first block of classes." _Oh that's it! I saw Sherlock talking to her last week as I was on my way to meet him in the Great Hall. I wonder what this is about. _"What was your name? I'm afraid I didn't quite catch it last week."

"Oh, I'm Devon." Devon all but bounced around him as they waited at the bottom of the main staircase.

Sherlock arrived not long after and gave the girl an expectant look. Devon gave him a grin and a nod. "Captain Sherlock, sir, I have a report for you."

"Ah, excellent." She handed Sherlock a note enthusiastically, to which Sherlock looked over briefly, eyebrows raising, before pocketing it and bringing his hands together to mull over. John became more and more confused by the interaction taking place in front of him.

"Anything else, then?"

"Nope, that's it. Well…" Devon hesitated and looked over at John, then pulled the much taller Slytherin a few steps away and dropped her voice. "It's a personal matter, so you can't make a big deal out of it. Promise you won't."

"I hold to my word from last week." She nodded. "And as promised, three chocolate frogs for your trouble. Keep an ear out, and I'll notify you if I have another assignment."

With that Devon saluted him and bounced away.

John Watson stared. "…Ok. What the hell was that, Sherlock?"

"Nothing so devious as you seem to think it is. I have simply come to the conclusion that perhaps extra eyes and ears could be helpful around the castle. The two of us can't always be in the right place at the right time, and other students have advantages we don't have."

"Alright, fair point. Though I admit I'm surprised to hear you admit you can't do everything." John wasn't entirely convinced, but figured he would find out more of his mate's newest scheme with time. They began to walk into the Great Hall.

"Yes, well, I'm a logical being John and thus am fully capable of reaching reasonable conclusions about my own limitations."

John snorted. _Right. _"And what was the whole thing about _Captain _and _sir_?"

Sherlock responded with an annoyed glance and sat down. "What she chooses to call me hardly matters. Devon and I have reached an understanding. I had to explain a situation to her last week, but once we sorted that out she seemed eager to help."

"And the note she gave you?"

"Her first assignment as the premier member of my student network."

Rolling his eyes, John pressed on. "Which was?"

Sherlock sighed dramatically. "I'm afraid I can't tell you, John. Network-networkee confidentiality you see."

"You know," John sighed as he filled his plate. "You're such a git sometimes."

He hadn't brought up the matter of Sherlock being so nice to Molly because he was actually gratefully Sherlock had showed such kindess, and feared that any mention of it would send that part of the Slytherin running. That said, John was sorely tempted to pester the hell out of him with that ammunition right about now.

* * *

Sherlock spent the remainder of his classes that day thinking about the information he had received from Devon. _I can't believe I never thought of this before – using other students who show competence to catch what I cannot due to trivial singularities such as being a fifth year, or of a certain house, or gender, social circle...Oh this is perfect!_

_And I've finally got all the pieces. But an animagus. I admit she's thrown me here. Molly Hooper is more ambitious than I thought. Though I still don't understand the motive for her secrecy._

Students weren't encouraged to try advanced spells on their own, certainly, but she was willing to break school rules for to make sure not a single person knew about it._ It's a personal matter, and she's likely embarrassed by it. When it's personal, it has far more potential for damage._

Devon's note made it clear that she was afraid of failing._ Normal, but taken to an extreme in this instance. Molly has proved that she's a competent witch, doesn't she know that? Obviously I wouldn't work with her if she was a fool._

He added the previous data he'd collected to the equation. _She wants to become an animagus for her father. Why? To prove something? What would she have to prove? Her father is dying. Ah. It signified something more, then; it was…meaningful in some way. Hmph._

A small part of him admired her undertaking - _even if she was doing it out_ _of_ _sentiment_. _Why is she always motivated by emotional responses? _He recalled their conversation in the greenhouse a week and a half ago, and Mycroft's taunting voice threw the question back at him. _Did you not do the same when you asked for my help? Tread wisely, brother._

And so it was entirely possible that that same small part of him spent the entire Transfiguration lesson in a specific room of his mind palace, ignoring his brother's voice and categorizing possible animals Molly Hooper's animagus form could take instead.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey guys! Really sorry about the delay for this one, it's been a fairly hectic couple of weeks. The good news is that I have some freelancing work going for me, bad news being that it takes up time. Then an unexpected networking opportunity came up and I had to make a business card, and update my linkedin, blah blah blah, that kind of stuff. On the more interesting end, I've been horribly behind on working on Sherlock: The Game is On things and needed to generate some material for that.**

**Excuses, excuses, I know. But it's finally here, the next chapter. And for your patience, it's extra long (and maybe a tad extra cute) - hooray! Thanks for reading and for your continued support, and thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and followed. Enough from me, read on! Christmas is approaching and of course John would drag Sherlock with him to do some holiday shopping...**

**Renaissancebooklover108 - Muahaha! More fun to come though, promise!**

**veronnieroo - Haha, well done! And so glad you're enjoying it :) (Also, I know you're right with the disclaimer stuff, but can't be too safe!)**

**RhiannonAmidala - Quite possibly ^^ (yay, Cabin Pressure fans!)**

**yay - Thanks, I'm glad you do! I like their dynamic as well.**

**Caileigh of Berk - *whispers back* Here you go, so sorry it took so long!**

**Disclaimer: Thank ACD, Moffat, Gatiss, and Rowling for their genius. My inspiration starts with them.**

* * *

The arrival of the Christmas Holiday always brought gleeful smiles and sighs of relief to the students of Hogwarts (and, though the students would never consider it, the professors). It meant they had made it through another term and had a few weeks to recover from the mass essay writing and tests that tended to pile up just before the holidays. Break was just long enough for students to become excited again to get back to school – to be groaning by the end of the week, of course, but it all worked out well enough.

Since they had become friends four years ago, Sherlock and John had switched off visiting one or the other's home for part of the holiday. Sherlock would never admit it, but he was grateful to have John with him. He was able to slip away for a week or two when it was his turn to visit the Watson's, and when it was John's turn to visit, he made the time at the Holme's residence slightly more bearable.

This year John would be staying with the Holme's, and had traveled directly there with Sherlock as he would be spending the first portion of the holiday with him.

"Come on, get up Sherlock!" John called out to his friend as he walked into the library where the young man sat trancelike on the sofa in a dressing gown. "Oi," John poked him repeatedly, "Christmas is only a few days away and we've got loads to do. And don't tell me you've already got your presents because that's total bollocks. You'd sooner say that gifts were a, a," he waved his arm around in thought, "_farcical tradition of forced sentiment_ or something."

Sherlock smirked. "I would have gone with, 'meretricious and waste of time', but well spoken, John. They are quite _farcical_."

Disgruntled, but not to be dissuaded, John grabbed his arm and pulled him up. "Oh, shut up."

As Sherlock reluctantly went upstairs to dress properly – why he couldn't just go to Diagon Alley in his dressing gown and sheets was beyond him – John helped himself to a plateful of the delicious breakfast the house-elves had prepared. As they pulled on their hats and Sherlock donned his favorite scarf, a house-elf reappeared in front of Sherlock.

"Shall I tell Master Mycroft that you're off, Sir?"

Sherlock sighed at the mention of his brother's name. "Do what you like, just make sure he doesn't bother us or have us followed. Again."

"As Sir wishes, Sir. I will relay the message." With a pop the little elf vanished in the blink of an eye. John didn't think he'd ever get used to the little creatures, only ever seeing them when he visited Sherlock. It was an old fashioned concept, but at least they seemed happy enough at the Holmes Estate. And he, for one, appreciated their fantastic culinary skills.

Sherlock merely looked unfazed at the encounter and grabbed a small handful of Floo powder from an elegant, obsidian vase. John followed suit.

"So we're flooing to the Leaky Cauldron then, yes?"

Sherlock nodded. He stepped into the flames, threw down the powder with a baritone, "Leaky Cauldron", and disappeared in a burst of green.

Before following suit, John called out a tentative, "Um, hello?" Shortly after one of the smaller, female elves popped into existence.

"Sir? Do you require something Mr. Watson?" She inclined her head before almost shyly looking at him with big green eyes. John had a hard time recalling what he had summoned the elf for as he followed the springy movement of her ears as they wobbled back and forth with her movement.

"Well…no. But I just wanted to ask- we're headed to Diagon Alley and I just wondered if there was anything we could pick up for you or the others?"

She shook her head back and forth, her ears once more distracting him. "Oh no! No, no, no, no," her voice spoke bobbed as much as her ears did. "Mr. Watson is kind to ask, but Mistress and Master Holmes keep us well stocked with what we require."

John smiled back and her and nodded. He knew the Holmes treated their elf family very fairly, and quite often just left them to their own devices. "If you're sure, then."

He stepped into the fireplace and looked down at his handful of silver dust. "Wish me luck," he muttered. A squeaked, "Good luck, Sir" saw him off as he released his fist and felt the disorienting spinning that always signaled Floo travel.

* * *

"What took you so long?"

John opened his eyes once more to find himself amidst a very bustling pub. Unsurprisingly, everyone and their cousin were here to do some last minute Christmas shopping. Sherlock drawled beside him looking bored already. _Fantastic._

"Nothing, now let's go before it gets even more crowded." John nodded to a fellow sixth year they passed as they made their way to the brick arch. He squeezed through after Sherlock as witches and wizards were attempting to get in and out beside them.

After stepping to the side to avoid the foot traffic, Sherlock regarded John once more. "Well, this was your idea as you're so eager to do gifts, so where would you like to go?"

"Umm, hang on a moment," he replied distractedly as he searched his coat for something. "Aha!" He pulled out a piece of paper with a list on it and regarded it for a moment. Sherlock observed all of the cheerful people in the street as they moved with far too much energy and empty chatter. "Why don't we go to the Quidditch shop first so I can knock out a few gifts straight away."

Two hours later found the boys meeting up for lunch and breaking from their gift browsing. Unsurprisingly, Sherlock didn't buy gifts for many, but had gone off on his own to make a few purchases for those he did feel obligated to give something to.

"So, how did you do?" John regarded the sleek bag Sherlock now had with him.

"Let's just say that I will not be outdone this year by Mycroft," Sherlock grinned smugly. He and Mycroft were always competing to see who would get the best gift for their parents. Of course the Holmes parents never claimed any gift better than another, nor were they particularly around all that much, so Mycroft and Sherlock acted as the judges…which is why it was an argument that continued to this day.

"Right, well, I'm glad to hear that." Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but John interrupted. "And NO. I am not going to judge your gifts, so quit trying to get me to take your side."

Sherlock deflated and folded his arms across his chest. _It hardly matters, I don't need any extra support to prove the superiority of my gift._

"What about Mycroft, did you get him something?" At that Sherlock smiled devilishly. John raised his eyebrows, half expecting Sherlock to break into a bought of evil laughter, and shook his head. _They're horrible. Truly. I mean sure, Harry and I don't always get along so well but this is ridiculous._

They chatted a bit more as they finished their meal. Sherlock pulled on his scarf, eager to get going.

"Are we done here, John?"

"Actually, not quite. I've just got one more stop to make, but I thought maybe you could help me."

* * *

Sherlock huffed. "Let me guess. You're trying to get another girl's attention and you want me to tell you what it is she likes so you can impress her with the _perfect gift_."

"Nope," John grinned. _Not for me to impress, at least._

"Alright," Sherlock waited for John to explain as he was lead through the streets toward one of the smaller book shops. "What assistance could you need from me for a gift, then? You've often admonished me for having a terrible sense of the meaning, and I quote, _Sherlock, a gift is something you give to say you appreciate someone…not to throw their shortcomings in their face. _Though you can't deny that my gifts come from spot on observations about people," he muttered.

John rolled his eyes as they stopped outside of the more secluded shop. "Well, you've been doing much better and I'm a man who believes in second chances. Now, I was thinking this might be a good spot, but I'll take a second opinion from the great Sherlock Holmes."

"Fine," he sighed, "who is it?"

"Molly Hooper," John smiled back at him brightly.

"John, if this is some kind of ploy to-"

"Ploy! Sherlock, what kind of bloke do you think I am?" John beseeched jokingly before continuing on a more serious note. "Listen, Lestrade texted me earlier and he says things aren't going so well with her dad. I'd really like to get Molly something nice, and I know that you can help me find the right thing. So what do you think - good spot?"

Sherlock regarded the store in front of them, considering. "I think it's worth taking a look," he replied.

"Excellent, thanks Sherlock." John wrapped an arm around his mate's shoulders and dragged him inside while adding, "And oh, I dunno, maybe you _would_ like to get her something, too, while we're here."

"Caring is not an advantage, John," he responded quietly as he was pushed through the door.

"Now that sounds like Mycroft talking," John replied in a lowered voice as he gave a small smile and nod to the store clerk in the back. "And it's a load of dragon dung. Caring creates bonds, and bonds can never be truly broken. Caring is a blessing, Sherlock."

Unable to stop himself from arguing, Sherlock threw a question at John as they browsed a shelf on their left. "Her father is going to die. She is suffering and will be emotionally crippled, which will distract her from functioning at her best," he spoke in low, clipped tones. "Where is the advantage in caring about him?" He spat.

If John hadn't been friends with Sherlock for four years and gotten to know the brilliant Slytherin so well, he would have punched him right then and there. Taking a deep breath and releasing it, John strove not to get upset. _Step back and observe the situation_ a voice went through his mind. _He's angry, otherwise his tone would be even. He's upset about Molly's situation. He can deny it, but I know him._

Releasing another breath and relaxing once more, John answered Sherlock's question. "I can't give you concrete evidence to support caring being an advantage. But here's something to ponder: imagine what Molly would be like, how different a person she would be, if she didn't care about her dad."

Sherlock's brow furrowed in thought as he went over the scenario John presented.  
The more he imagined a Molly who didn't care about people and was emotionally detached, the more he began to frown. It didn't fit, wasn't right on a fundamental level. And he didn't like it. Not one bit.

Some minutes later John heard his friend mutter, "She wouldn't be Molly." John shook his head in agreement with a quiet, "no."

"Alright, why don't we split up. I'll look over here, and you let me know if you find something." With a nod from Sherlock, John side stepped around another few cases and began to stare at title after title once more. _Hmm, she likes potions…and cats…and Sherlocks…maybe I could send her Sherlock, all wrapped up with bows, holding a kitten and some advanced potions books. _He chuckled at the thought of how either would respond to that before focusing again and finding himself searching a section featuring magical mysteries. _Huh._

Sherlock retreated briefly to his mind palace and sifted through past encounters with Molly to find something suitable for a gift John could give her. Potions was obvious, and he knew she was well read in the subject. _Something people want and don't necessarily need, _John's words came back to him. His conversation with Molly in the greenhouse popped up.

Sherlock glanced at the headings over the shelves and was unsatisfied. He strode over to the owner and quietly requested to be directed to any material regarding wand lore and wand properties.

The gentleman, a wizard reaching the upper portion of middle age slipped around the counter with a smile and asked Sherlock to wait one moment. He immediately shuffled to one shelf, grabbed a book, went across the store to another shelf and grabbed two more. He then came back out to the middle aisle, paused for a few moments in deep thought, then, with a little, "ah!", went to retrieve one more book from an entirely different shelf in the back.

_He certainly could organize his store more logically._ Sherlock listened as the man unloaded the four books on the counter between them. Each one was described briefly before he stepped back to unobtrusively let Sherlock examine the books, pleasantly telling the young man to just ask if he needed anything else.

After finding one that piqued his interest out of the four, Sherlock called John over. "Here. The title is deplorable, but I believe it will do nicely," he said as he handed John the book.

John took the book and glanced at it briefly. "_Wizardly_ _Wonderings of Wands_…so she's interested in wand stuff, then? Great," he smiled at his friend as he dug out some sickles to pay for the book. "Thanks Sherlock." He smirked to himself. "You're sure you don't want to get her anything?"

Sherlock simply nodded in return, face a blank mask of boredom as he glanced at a few books John had discarded on his way over to the counter. John thanked the owner and he and Sherlock made their way back through Diagon Alley.

* * *

"Well, that wasn't so bad! We've got time to spare, fancy an afternoon around London?"

"So long as it buys us time away from the house, then fine. It's bound to be less tedious." John never quite understood why Sherlock hated the Holmes estate so much. Maybe it had something to do with a lonely childhood (_Mycroft had started at Hogwarts when Sherlock was five, so hadn't been around most of the year. And the manor was in a more secluded area_) or maybe due to strict rules growing up. He couldn't be sure, Sherlock never explained beyond, "it's extremely dull."

"I imagine so, mate. Actually, I'd like to see if I can get something more normal for…my…parents," John slowed to a stop, looking inside the window of the Magical Menagerie. "Hang on, is that Greg?" His eyes shifted slightly to the right. "And Molly?!"

Sherlock glanced over. "Indeed."

Grabbing Sherlock he crossed the street over to the shop in question, and, after making sure his gifts were all concealed, opened the door and went inside.

"Hey Greg, Molly," he called out to them as he strode over with a little confusion. "Sooo, what's going on here?"

Greg was grinning like a first year and snickering at Molly. "Ah, well, you see…" He couldn't continue as he succumbed to a bought of laughter again.

"I don't know why it's so funny, Greg," Molly complained. She was certainly in an, um, unusual position, John observed. Just as Molly finished greeting John she spotted Sherlock walk into the shop as well.

"Sherlock!" It came out as almost a squeak and the very uncertain looking witch grew even more awkward. This set Greg off again, which set off Molly glaring again, and when he calmed himself a few moments later he explained why Molly looked the way she did.

"Molly and I came in looking for some specific food for Toby. As you can see the store is a bit of an animal, isn't it?" His pun earned himself another glare from Molly. "Anyway, she was in the middle of administering some dose of something to these little fellows here," he gestured at a band of cloth sacks with baby bats now wrapped around Molly, "and said she certainly had some of Toby's food in the back and could Molly just hang on to these precious creatures for just a moment as she fetched them – this all being said as the band was shoved enthusiastically onto Molly – Then some kids walked in and wanted to see the animals, and I'm afraid the shopkeeper is a bit sidetracked and all over the place and here we are."

Molly looked extremely lost as one bat grew tired of its tiny pouch and began to climb up her arm. She didn't want to move and disturb the other bats. John tried hiding a laugh as well, but the whole thing just looked utterly ridiculous and the noise escaped his lips anyway.

Just then a raven flew by and squawked at the bats, and when she moved back protectively with her limited range of motion, she upset a cage containing – actually, she wasn't quite sure what it was, but it started hissing very angrily, causing it's neighbor, some sort of small wildcat, to hiss back. A howling on the other side of the store began and the raven turned its attention to a nearby mouse who squeaked and jabbered to its cage mates in a terrified manner. Molly looked petrified at the ruckus her misstep had started. "Help?" She implored.

Sherlock shooed the raven away from their area and stepped forward to gently remove the bat from her arm and place it back in the cloth. "Thanks," she sighed in relief. He actually smiled back at her, a genuine smile. But then, closer inspection of his upturned lips gave her pause. _No wait, he's laughing at me, too!_ _Merlin's beard, they are all intolerable! Every one of them. Boys. Where is Sally when you need her?_

"Not your favorites?" He arched an eyebrow at her, still in her already too crowded space. Admittedly, the image in front of him did make him smile, and was one he would store in his mind palace for years to come.

She reddened. "Oh, no, they're fine. I just don't quite know what to do," she admitted abashedly. Her awkward position with the string of creatures made that quite clear.

John and Sherlock waited around with them for another five minutes before Molly was relieved of her position as animal guardian. As they chatted Sherlock would occasionally lean forward and place an escaping bat back in its place or shoo away a stray cat or bird prowling their way.

Apparently Molly had met Greg here to run some errands while her dad went in for another scan at the hospital. She hadn't been allowed into the treatment room and had only agreed to leave the hospital when her dad asked her to do some shopping for him and get what she needed as well for Christmas. She had dialed Greg to see if he wanted to join.

As she went up to pay, Sherlock and John bid them goodbye and a happy Christmas. Well, John did at least. Molly and Greg returned the sentiment and each promised to stay in contact throughout break.

Greg waited patiently while the eager shop keeper trapped Molly in a conversation about what seemed to be every animal in the store. At least Molly seemed interested enough. His mind began to drift elsewhere once they got started on the rabbits and pygmy puffs and how cute they are. He glanced at a cage beyond the counter and saw a silver fox. _Now there's a good looking animal, _he thought.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hi guys! Sorry again for the extra week delay. I come bearing another extra long chapter as an offering, though. I'm afraid there's a lot less merry banter this go around as we explore Barts and get down to some serious business with the Hoopers. But! I promise a bit of Sherlock and Molly interaction for your patience, and a bit of Mycroft, too (because I do love a meddling Mycroft). Enjoy!**

**Thanks again for reading and a big thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and/or followed this story. It means a lot!**

**star-eye - You are lovely, thank you for the comment! So glad you liked the silver fox nod, I couldn't resist ;)**

**MizJoely - Thank you, very glad to hear the feedback!**

**AveP - Thanks so much, hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Renaissancebooklover108 - Just a bit of a fun reference to Rupert Grave's Lestrade :)**

**yay - Yes, I do think Sherlock could be quite handy on that front! (When he could be bothered put the effort in, of course)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or world, they come from the far more brilliant minds that conceived them. Thank you ACD, Moffat, Gatiss, and J.K. Rowling for being so imaginative and inspiring.**

* * *

Christmas time had the unusual power to lift spirits to soaring heights or drag the miserable to deeper depths of despair. Molly Hooper made her way round St Barts Hospital in London and wondered why it was possible to feel sad and happy at the same time. She observed the activity around her as she wandered purposefully through the buildings.

Many people were waiting anxiously, some were crying, others sleeping. There were tears of joy at good news (especially in the nursery), and woeful cries at the bad. A few people were pleading with doctors or to a higher being, some people prayed for peace and others in hope. Spending the holidays mostly at a hospital was a new experience, and it turned out that it was a rather harrowing one.

While there were those moments of extraordinary human spirit, there was mostly sadness and misery. _At least here I'm not alone. _Molly immediately admonished the selfish nature of the thought, but couldn't deny the truth and small amount of comfort it held. _Misery loves company, _she thought wryly with a frown.

And Molly Hooper was very much in similar company with those around her. As a few doctors walked past in a hurry, she mustered up a small smile for them. Molly admired them for everything they gave to help the people who found themselves here. A smile was the least she could give them in return.

Another building over and down a flight of stairs and she made it to the basement level. It was quieter down here, much more peaceful. She exhaled in relief. A, by now, familiar layout of the building on the wall showed that she had made it to the area of the hospital dedicated to the dead. The morgue was down the hallway and a few labs branched off here are there for the pathologists.

In the week and a half she'd been at Barts, she had somehow managed to gain permission from one of the staff to come down to this section of the hospital. Molly had taken to roaming the large institution when her dad was asleep or undergoing tests. While she hated herself for it, she just wasn't strong enough to be with him every minute of the way. Her aunt had arrived and together the two acted as constant vigils at her dad's bedside.

They had other visitors as well throughout the day; her aunt's family and her dad's older cousin. The Hooper clan was small these days, but they stuck together. Her grandmother on her mum's side had made an effort to be there as well, which meant a lot to Molly and her dad.

She continued down the hall and peaked through the window of the morgue door, starting to familiarize herself with the area. She had just sort of gravitated this way every time she felt the need to be on her own for a bit. _And it was probably my constant poking around down here that had the guy take pity on me. _She recalled the young man had been rather amused at the fifteen year old who kept returning to the morgue. _What was his name? Mike? Yes, that was it._

* * *

It was getting later but she watched, transfixed, as the lone figure prepped for a report inside. A hand falling gently on her shoulder had Molly literally jump in the air with a small exclamation.

"Sorry! Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you there," the intruder's eyes looked down at her in mirth.

"Mike! No, it's fine, I just," Molly shrugged, not really sure how to explain herself, "sorry."

"What are youapologizing for? Not your fault. Besides, some new guy with no backbone gave you permission to be down here anyway." He winked at her. The man had to be in his early to mid twenties and had a rounder face, glasses framing kind eyes.

She smiled wanly at him. It was refreshing to talk to someone here without worrying about upsetting anyone, or getting upset herself. He also had a personality and persona that just put Molly at ease. "Thanks again, for that."

He waved her thanks off. "Oh, not a problem."

"It's nice down here, quiet I mean. Not like the rest of the hospital."

He grinned and replied, "I should hope not! We'd have a real problem then…"

She giggled at the morgue humour. "Yes, I suppose so."

He looked at her again, brow creased in thought. "Do you plan to study here?"

"What?" She was taken aback at the question, especially considering where her current education was taking place.

"After you complete your secondary education. You clearly aren't phased by the bodies, and that's about ninety percent of the battle right there. If you have an interest, Barts could always use more pathology students."

"Oh. I…hadn't really given it much thought." Now that he brought it up, Molly did need to consider her option for after she finished at Hogwarts. What _was_ she going to do? Distractedly Molly glanced at her phone and gasped. _Merlin's beard, I've been down here longer than I thought!_

"I need to make my way back to the hospital, but thank you for the chat Mike. Truly." She tried to convey with a sincere look how much his company did help her, and he seemed to understand.

"Hey, no problem Miss Hooper. Always a pleasure talking to someone down here who can respond." Mike smiled cheekily at the teenager and gave her a final pat on the shoulder. As she began to walk away he called out to her, "Think about what I said – I think you'd like it here!" He shook his head at the thought of being a "morgue recruiter" as he walked into his office proper to finish his work for the afternoon.

* * *

Molly did ponder his suggestion as she walked back upstairs and to the building where her dad was. She did have an interest she supposed; always had since she was young and her dad had brought her a collection of fossils one day. The fascination had grown from there. It wasn't morbid fascination, but rather an innocent, imaginative curiosity.

The deceased had stories and she would sit there and daydream about the twists and turns those lives took when she came across something like a dead animal, museum exhibits that had pieced together human bones so spectacularly, or caught a glimpse of the obituaries. Most people were too held up with the fear and uncertainty of death to dwell on the life that bloomed beforehand. _It's actually quit similar with potions_, she mused.

Potions were powerful and had a stigma to them despite the fact that they often times were used for healing. The analytical side of Molly's brain enjoyed the way potions told stories, too. The brew could be broken down and she could see how every element affected the outcome. Inversely, if she knew the symptoms, she could puzzle together the ingredients that would best address a magical malady or other problem. You just had to approach it from different angles to make sure you didn't overlook any possibilities.

John had actually come to her once for help in reversing some spell that had gone haywire on Sherlock. _Now that was an interesting evening._ Her mouth quirked up at the recollection of Sherlock emitting bubbles from his ears and robes and a singular focus on finding some water and floating in it. John hadn't been hit by it.

The boys – well, John – had thought to seek her out first in hopes of avoiding a trip to the hospital wing and the explanation that would undoubtedly be forthcoming. She hadn't gotten the full story out of them (John was full of "ughs" and "umms"), and it was clear they wanted to avoid any higher authority if they could. Luckily they weren't in any real danger, else Molly would have put her foot down and sent them to Professor Hudson (she hoped).

Shaking her head of the ridiculous memory, Molly found herself standing outside of her dad's room. She took a deep breath, then another. The treatments weren't working. Her dad was not well. She took a third deep breath. _I won't cry, I won't cry, I won't cry. I don't need to add to the stress and worry. Come on, Molly, be brave like Greg and Sally and John._ She turned the handle and walked in with a small smile on her face. She was just in time to say goodbye to her cousin and uncle before they left for the night.

"Molly," her aunt began quietly once it was just the three of them. "We need to talk about your future and sort some things out so that everyone is happy."

Molly swallowed. _Why? Why is this happening to me? I'm fifteen, for God's sake, I don't want to talk about these things. I don't want to lose my dad! _"Ok." Molly was sat beside her dad on his bed and when she turned her head to glance at him he was making a face at his little sister. Molly smiled weakly as her aunt made a face right back. Her dad never did like discussing more serious matters; made him antsy.

"Let's start with living situation. As you are still a minor…"

* * *

That night Molly forwent her usual spot in the hospital to sleep next to her dad. She had not made it through the discussion without shedding a few tears, but then, it was tough for all of them. Luckily the whole _Molly's a witch_ thing had been squared away earlier in the week by a long discussion mostly between her dad and her aunt, and now all legal matters regarding Molly were attended to in full detail, with everyone's approval.

An unexpected buzz caught her attention and she fished her phone out of her pocket. Despite being emotionally drained, a glance at the name of the sender had her stomach do an all too familiar flip and her heart rate elevate. She scolded herself. _Stop it. _Shrugging off her reaction for her curiosity, she opened the message.

_Thank you for the gift. I am not aware of the premise, though John assures me I will 'no doubt find inspiration in it'. You should know he seemed rather less enthused about it after his initial amusement. An intriguing reaction. _ _–SH_

She did feel a bit for John, but in the end she couldn't resist.

_Ah. Well, you're welcome. And you didn't have to thank me. (I suppose I should tell John that?)_ _–MH_

"Oh, what's this? Who could be texting you so late?" Molly smiled at her dad's overly dramatized voice.

"It's no one dad." It wasn't that Molly didn't want to tell him about Sherlock. It was that Molly really didn't want to tell him about Sherlock. Specifically her feelings for Sherlock. It was embarrassing!

_My brother, actually. He would drop dead on the spot if a Holmes were not being proper and minding manners. John is no longer here._ _–SH_

"Won't tell me who he is, hmmm?" Her dad teased. "Is he your," and here he paused to whisper conspiratorially, "boyfriend?" Predictably, Molly's face turned beat red at the insinuation.

"No! He's not...we're not," she wasn't even sure why she was so flustered. It was only her dad, and she knew he was just taking the mickey out of her.

He laughed good-naturedly at his daughter's all too obvious reaction and pulled her close to him. "Liar."

"We're just friends," Molly stated with an indignant huff and stuck her tongue out at her dad. After a beat of more serious thought towards the matter she added, "Maybe."

"What? Maybe that you two are friends, or maybe that you're _just_ friends?"

"Maybe that we're friends," she groaned. "He's my friend, at least," she added distractedly as she typed out a response to send back to Sherlock.

_I do hope you like it, btw. I know it looks a bit silly, but I thought you might find something non-magical a bit refreshing._ _–MH_

"So you got him a Christmas gift!" Her dad exclaimed, now looking over her shoulder. "Well I'd say that is pretty conclusive. I think I should meet this mysterious _maybe friend _of yours…"

"I send Greg a Christmas gift every year." Molly countered.

"Yes, but you would have told me if it was Greg texting you. Unless it _is_ Greg and there's something you're not telling me. I know you two have been very close for the past few years, and friendship can easily become…"

"Ugh, dad, no! He's a great guy and all, but he's my best mate! Just…no." Their relationship was built on a different foundation than the sort that turned friendships into something more intimate. They would always love each other, but she's pretty sure Greg would have the same reaction where the thought posed to him.

"Alright, alright! No beating around the cauldron there I see." The man chuckled slightly. Ever since they had discovered that Molly was officially a witch, he would find every excuse to sprinkle 'magic vocabulary' into their conversations.

Molly sighed. "He's John Watson's friend, dad."

At the mention of John, her dad brightened. "Oh, Watson you say? Good family - always did like that boy. You know, the two of you have quite a bit in common…"

"Again, dad, I'm afraid that's not going to happen." _How much easier things would have been, though. At least I might've had a fighting chance if my stupid heart hadn't decided to stupidly zero in on stupid, brilliant Sherlock Holmes._

"Ah well, a father can hope." He made a show of sighing and settling back against the pillow to close his eyes. He waved his hand in her mobile's direction as if making a grand, regal gesture and adopted a tone to match. "But I can rest easy knowing that your _mystery man_ is friend of the noble House of Watson."

"He isn't _my man_!" But even as Molly exclaimed this in exasperation, she couldn't keep a straight face. Laughter bubbled up from the pair of them at her dad's antics. They were quiet for a few minutes, each deep in their own thoughts, before Molly broke the silence.

"Dad?"

"Yes my brilliant, silly girl?"

She couldn't quite hide the anxiety from creeping into her voice. "What do you think I should do after I graduate from Hogwarts?"

He took her hand and squeezed it tightly. "I think you follow whatever direction your heart pulls you to. And even if you don't know exactly what that might be right away, it will come to you. You are my Molly. You will figure it out."

She nodded but began to sniffle. "Yeah, but…"

Her dad could follow her line of that exactly. "Don't you be worrying about that, Molly. You know that I will always be with you and support you in whatever you choose to do. Just like your mum. Don't think for one second that we'll ever truly abandon you."

She swiped at her eyes hastily as something between a laugh and a cry escaped her throat while nodding again. She met her dad's gaze and he must have found what he was looking for as with a final squeeze to her hand, he settled back against the pillows and closed his eyes to rest

Molly settled in as well and was focusing on taking even breaths when her phone buzzed once more. _Sherlock is still texting me? He must be bored and has probably ticked off John in some way. _She reached for her mobile once more.

_Yours was the only muggle gift I received. I'm sorry I had nothing in return to give you. –SH _

Molly could almost see the debate that went on in his head before deciding to add that last bit. _Ok. Why is he being so considerate? I wouldn't have pegged him as a Christmas spirit kind of guy._ Molly had never been to the Holmes estate or discussed the home with Sherlock, so it never occurred to her that he might just be lonely. Still, she wasn't about to _not_ take advantage of this rare "chatty" mood he seemed to be in.

_It's fine, really! I wasn't expecting anything anyway. It's a gift. I just wanted to give you something. Please don't worry about it! –MH _

A few minutes passed with no response in which Molly fretted she had said something wrong.

_Did you like John's gift? –SH _

_John's gift? _Molly was momentarily stumped, a testament to her tired and stressed brain, before remembering that, duh, she hadn't opened any Christmas gifts besides those from the mini celebration they'd done at Bart's. She hadn't been home to do so.

_I haven't actually opened it yet. Have been at Barts and Greg must have passed on that I didn't want any owls here. Not that there would be that many to be suspicious! Just a lot going on and haven't been home. –MH _

_I'm sure it's lovely though :). –MH _

_I'm sure you're right. Goodnight Molly. –SH _

_Goodnight Sherlock. Thank you. –MH_

* * *

_Sherlock Holmes just effectively tucked me in. Over mobile. _It didn't matter if Sherlock would be confused why she said thank you. Texting him had actually been a comfort and helped to calm her down. _Well, in some ways. I don't think my stomach is going to stop feeling like butterfly paradise anytime soon._

Molly stared at his final message for another few seconds before putting it away and turning over. _Maybe we are friends._ She tried not to overanalyze the brief conversation but thoughts of the Slytherin stayed with her as she drifted into another restless sleep.

_Thank you. _Sherlock Holmes stared at the final message and must have sat there debating the sentiment for at least ten minutes before tossing the device away and sulking into his mind palace.

Mycroft Holmes smiled primly to himself as he watched his brother check his mobile again. While his nickname at the Ministry was "Iceman" for a reason, he had a soft spot when it came to his brother; even if Sherlock would never see it that way. He still didn't fully believe in the merits of caring, but his curiosity over his little brother's interest in the Ravenclaw girl had gotten the best of him. He had begun monitoring Miss Hooper and he had to begrudgingly admit that she had been fairly likeable from the start, much to his surprise.

She was small and insignificant, someone easily lost in a crowd, but then there was more than met the eye with Miss Hooper. One needed to spare a second glance to see the sharp mind at work behind the overly soft exterior. Ironically, this quiet girl's quirks and strengths seemed to match his brother's almost…complimentarily. He sighed as he walked away, swinging his umbrella around as he retreated to his own internal sanctuary.


	15. Chapter 15

**Hi guys, hope you're all doing well. So, this chapter is a bit of a downer but hopefully I've thrown in a few chuckles and some heartwarming moments to balance it all out. We are getting very close to the end, here, and I promise that the next chapter will feature much more meaningful Sherlock and Molly interaction. (Yay!) For now read on and support our most lovable Ravenclaw who gets a bit of help from a certain sassy Gryffindor we know as Sally Donovan. Enjoy!**

**Thanks for all of the continued interest in this story, and support through your favorites, follows, and reviews. What can I say? You guys rock!**

**MizJoely - I agree! I think there is something so relatable in her character to all of us on that level. And yes, don't you just love Mycroft? ;)**

**Renaissancebooklover108 - Typical 'oh dad' relationship, ftw! Their dynamic was very natural to write, and very sweet. :)**

**And thanks to the guest reviewer (I guess you know who you are), loved hearing that! Hope you enjoy this one, too ^^**

**Disclaimer: You can thank the brilliant BBC Sherlock team, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and the wonderful J.K. Rowling for being the inspiration for this fic.**

* * *

Back at Hogwarts, two weeks into the term, John Watson gazed out over the lake as he voiced his thoughts to Sherlock. "How long do you think she'll be gone?" He was worried. Lestrade wasn't saying anything, and he hadn't heard a word from Molly for three weeks since their short conversation over text.

Adjusting his scarf, Sherlock replied in a clipped tone. "There's only one reason why she would still be there."

John nodded, not saying anything. In the back of his mind he had come to the same conclusion, but he didn't want to acknowledge it. "I was hoping…" he trailed off with a sigh. "I just hope she's ok," he settled on instead, more to himself than his companion. He was surprised, then, when he heard a muttered, "As do I," from beside him. But, in typical Slytherin fashion, when John turned to glance at him Sherlock had no trace of an expression on his features or gave any indication he had even spoken.

* * *

As Molly Hooper repacked her trunk, she reflected that break had gone by far too quickly, yet it had also been some of the longest weeks of her life. Her movements lacked the usual quiet energy they held and she quite often caught herself just stopping in the middle of doing something and staring. Staring at what, she didn't know. She would come around after a few minutes and just find herself staring.

An owl knocked on the window of her aunt's home and she sighed tiredly as she let the creature in and took the note with an uttered "thanks" to the bird. The bird cocked its head and gazed at her questioningly. She unfolded the note and penned a quick response of confirmation after reading it. The owl gave her a last scrutinizing look and a hoot (which sounded suspiciously disapproving to the grieving witch) before taking off with her reply. Heading down a set of stairs, Molly joined the rest of her remaining family. Tomorrow her Head of House would be coming to take her back to Hogwarts.

That night Molly stayed up thinking. Her mind was a mess, her thoughts scattered and jumpy. She thought about Sally, who had been faithfully owling her notes and homework from the two weeks of classes she had been missing. Included were notes of updates on everyone (read, gossip), in true Sally fashion.

She thought about the gifts from her friends that had been waiting for her when she had gone back home to collect everything. Molly lips twitched as John's gift drifted to mind.

_Molly-_

_Happy Christmas! It was nice running into you last week, I hope your dad is doing well. Anyway, enjoy our gifts – mine and Sherlock's, that is. If I remember correctly, you really like these chocolates, so those are from me. _(They were here favorite – chocolate infused with mango) _And the book is from Sherlock, but he doesn't know he gave it to you so it's probably best if you don't mention that. Thanks. Just know that he was the one who picked it out for you (maybe under the pretense of it being my gift for you)._

_Best wishes,_

_John_

_P.S. Mum says that if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask us!_

She seemed to find herself unconsciously clutching her newest book fairly often since…since last Monday.

She thought of Greg, who had come to the hospital to be with her, despite her silence on that front after assuring him she would text when she needed him. Greg, who had come anyway, as her thumb had been hovering over the keys to text him, but not committing. Greg, who would have been at the small but meaningful ceremony with her if he wasn't back at school and Head Boy.

She thought of Devon, the girl who had only just gotten to know her but had sent Molly a small gift anyway. One that had made her chuckle just when she had needed it. Molly was glad she had sent the girl a card as well.

She thought of John's text the day after Christmas, and how if her dad _had_ gotten to meet Sherlock, he would have laughed with her at her gift for him. She had half expected a text from Sherlock telling her not to make jokes, again, rather than the conversation that had took place. But maybe she was still due for that after he watched it. It would either cure his boredom for a short time or he would toss it aside as trivial information. At any rate, John had reacted.

_Molly, I appreciate that you understand Sherlock, really I do. But did you have to go and get him a season of Mythbusters? –John_

_Sorry. :D –Molly_

_Ha. Ha. You are an enabler. Do you know that? –John_

Their texts had degenerated into a small emoticon battle from there. The memory drifted away as quickly as it had come. She thought about Hogwarts, how everyone would know now.

But mostly Molly Hooper lay that night in the guest bedroom (_her bedroom, now_) thinking about her dad. Memories of the two of them - happy, sad, boring, it didn't matter. She thought about how much she missed him.

* * *

Somehow, the castle seemed lonelier than ever to Molly as she walked to RavenclawTower with her professor. He had come earlier and the two had apparated to Hogsmeade before setting off on foot from there to Hogwarts. They could have taken a carriage, but it was clear that her Head of House wanted to talk with her one on one, and a walk would give them ample time for the check up.

It was strange that it felt different because her dad had never been to Hogwarts with her. Some part of her brain supplied her with an argument that her dad had always been there in a different sense, and that she had changed, had left him behind. _Always thinking. _She blinked hard trying to stop those thoughts. _Always. Ugh._

"Molly?"

She realized too late that they had made it to the entrance and he had been saying something to her. Molly gave her head a slight shake and focused back on her professor, trying to give him a small smile of reassurance.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"I was just saying that if you need anything at all, you know that myself and all of your professors are always available. Losing someone close to us is not an easy thing to bear, and you need not hesitate to seek us out for anything or just to talk." A kind way of acknowledging potential psychological problems. But it was still nice to hear.

"I understand," Molly nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Professor."

He gave the answer to open the door for her and gave her shoulder a final pat before sending her inside. The final block of classes were still in session, meaning that all was quiet in the common room. Molly had been excused for the rest of the day. She took the time to unpack silently, and then just sat on her bed as Toby purred in her lap.

The only indication of life in the room as it grew darker was a cat's tail flicking back and forth. None of her dorm mates had come in, even though they normally would have stopped by after class. Obviously they knew she was back, but were giving her space. She didn't blame them. Molly wasn't sure she would know how to approach this sort of situation either.

It was an unexpected disturbance in the room that finally did break her out of her increasingly apathetic daze. It was quick and its brightness hurt her eyes upon its sudden illumination of darkness. The light bounced back and forth around the room, flickering every so often between a corporeal form of what appeared to be a wolf and flashes of non-corporeal light.

After grabbing her attention, the ethereal wolf settled in front of and gave her an expectant stare. Startled at first, Toby had jumped off her lap. However, the cat seemed satisfied with the guardian after a few seconds of inspection and resumed his purring.

Molly knew exactly who had sent the Patronus and her lips twitched upwards the slightest bit. _He's almost got the spell down. _ "Alright, alright, I'm coming," she conceded. The Patronus gave an excited half turn and whine before bounding off back through the closed door.

_No more hiding for today, I suppose. _Molly shrugged on a robe and released a deep breath. Looking out the window, she figured it must be around supper time, and hoped that everyone was down in the Great Hall. "See you later Toby." _I can do this, it's just Greg._

And so it was that her best mate was waiting for her just outside the Tower entrance, hands on his hips, expression eerily similar to that of the bright wolf who had bid her come down. She joked halfheartedly, "What? Am I in trouble?"

The Hufflepuff rolled his eyes before stepping forward and capturing her in a fierce hug. Molly closed her eyes tightly, and after a second's hesitation wrapped her arms around him as well. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. The hug was one of apologies and sorrow, relief and comfort, and love.

When they finally pulled apart, she hastily swiped her eyes free of the growing moisture. "Are you ok?" His tone was gentle but his face was serious as one hand remained on her shoulder.

"I…" Molly hesitated. _Am I ok? _She wasn't so sure at the moment. But she thought, in time, she might be. "I don't know, Greg," she finished honestly. Molly inhaled deeply to steady her breathing. "But I will be. Eventually." He nodded in understanding, repeating that she would, and she appreciated having his belief in her. They stood there for another minute, the picture of melancholy solidarity. "I guess we should eat, huh?"

"You guess right, oh wise Ravenclaw," Greg spoke, adopting a 'thou art worthier than I' tone. "Come on, it'll be ok," he added encouragingly as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

She smiled – her first true smile in almost two weeks. "Thanks," she said sincerely. He only squeezed her shoulder as the pair set off for dinner. She still didn't want to face the other students, but with Greg by her side she would make it. Besides, it turned out that the meal was almost over, so as they sat down to eat many students were already in the process of finishing up and leaving.

* * *

That week Molly received more attention than she had ever had before at Hogwarts. Though it made her feel self conscious and uneasy, the attention wasn't for a bad reason. Students, mostly her classmates and seventh years who knew Greg, had made a point of coming up to Molly to give their condolences.

It was weird, but even Anderson was going out of his way to be nice and…awkwardly encouraging. And then there was Devon, who seemed to be spying on her or something. But then Molly figured that restless nights and her increasingly irritated state of mind was making her paranoid. By the end of her second week back the attention had waned, but it still wasn't the same. _I just wish they would stop treating me like glass or a scared animal. _

People spoke in quiet tones around her, or made extra effort not to disturb her. Her professors were treating her differently in class and being over encouraging. The matronly Professor Hudson, kindly witch she was, was being a bit overbearing as well. And while Molly really liked Professor Hudson, it was just that everything was starting to grate on her. The only normality in the weeks she'd been back was Sherlock, and so she grabbed onto that consistency with the desperateness of drowning man.

He didn't talk to her anymore than usual. And although she didn't actual brew that often these days in the evenings, he would still come to her to get access to the potions room. He and John were sneaking around the castle again to solve Hogwart's mysteries, rather than him trying to follow her at night. She had seen them once or twice while aimlessly walking under disillusionment charms after her rounds. _Molly, you really should kick the habit of nighttime wanderings._

Thank goodness she had convinced the professors that she was fine to continue her prefect duties, because she almost needed to have that responsibility to keep her focused on something. _Those two things, at least, were blissfully normal._

Her thoughts were interrupted by Sally discreetly shooting a note out of her wand which slid to a stop in front of her. Looking across to her from the next desk over, Sally nodded at Molly to read it. _Meet up after class?_

A bit confused, Molly simply looked back again and shrugged an affirmative. With a smile and a nod, the bold Gryffindor went back to…apparently not paying attention to the lecture. _Like me. Ha._

* * *

When the Transfiguration lesson had ended, Molly packed up her things and met Sally at the door. "Let's go for a walk," she suggested. Slinging her rucksack over her shoulder, Molly agreed, having no other plans until the next class.

They began winding a path through the hallways of Hogwarts. "Listen," Sally began, "you know that we all care about you, right?"

Not expecting that to be the start of the conversation, Molly's eyebrows rose in confusion. "Umm, yes? Wait. We?"

"We, as in _your friends_."

"Ok, ok," Molly placated, then muttered something about _snarky_ _friends_ under her breath.

Sally just grinned at that before becoming serious again. "I respect that you might want space right now, and I know being in our company might seem trivial at times when you've just lost someone so important to you and I can't imagine what that must be like. But we're trying, Molly."

"I know you are!" Molly wasn't sure why the agreement had come out in snapped anger. They paused. "Err, sorry. That wasn't meant to come out that way." She continued walking to try and move past that little hiccup. Sally waved her apology off.

"You've been distant, Molly. And before you say anything, yes, you have been around us. But it's hard to explain. When we hang out together, I feel like we're communicating through a tunnel."

Molly began to feel worse. _I thought I was doing better…starting to hang around with everyone again, talk to people who weren't Greg Lestrade – that was a big one. _Upon further reflection, she realized she had really just being going through motions.Again, her mind started echoing that she had forgotten something, something important, since she had returned. She frowned.

"Look," Sally continued, "my intention is not to demand things go back to how they were before your dad…passed." She shook her head. "That wouldn't be right." Then Sally turned to face her friend directly. "I just want to say that we've all got your back. Me, Greg – duh – Anderson," at Molly's expression she retiterated. "Yes, Anderson. I know he's been a bit of a prick to you at times in the past, but he's still maturing, you know? And he's a boy, they're a bit slow on the uptake there."

The two girls shared a knowing look.

"Anyway, I'm sure you've noticed. It's his caring attitude, I know it's weird. Sorry."

"Yeah," Molly agreed, "it is a bit unnerving."

"_And_ I'm sure you've noticed that John is in a constant state of worry. You know that like me and Greg, he would do anything for you. Oh, and he would really appreciate if you would start eating those cakes his mum has been sending for you, by the way."

Sally seemed to hesitate before voicing the next part of her dialogue.

"Even _Holmes_ is being more human."

Molly let the comment slide, used to the antipathy between the two. "Sherlock?" Molly's face scrunched up. _No, he's being the normal one around here. _"That can't be right, he's the same as always."

"Nope. Much as he'd like to think so, Holmes isn't the only one round here who can observe. I'm surprised you haven't noticed him keeping tabs on you. As much as I hate to admit it, the freak is actually being kind of…sweet. For him." Her tone reflected the near disbelief of her words. "And in a very convoluted way, of course."

Sally's estimation of Sherlock had grudgingly risen the tiniest of bits as she witnessed those small moments of displayed concern over the last few weeks. She wouldn't admit trust in him, though. Not yet. But she knew how Molly felt towards the dark haired boy, and hoped in time that she could.

_Huh. Noooo. No? Nope. _Molly was having a hard time absorbing this information about _Sherlock_. So focusing back on Sally instead, her expression and silence prompted Molly's immediate curiosity.

"What?" She asked, snapping the girl back to the present.

"Nothing, nothing," Sally brushed off, almost guiltily. "The point is," she emphasized with her voice and gestures, "like it or not, Molly Hooper, you have a family here at Hogwarts and I have a feeling that you are going to be stuck with us for a long time."

Molly couldn't help but feel a sense of foreshadowing at her words.

"I know you need time, so take it. When you're ready, you're ready. And until then, we'll be here for you. In our own ways," she added thoughtfully.

The Ravenclaw sighed – something she was doing constantly these days. _How did I get so lucky? Dad, you would be so proud of the people I can call friends. _Molly nodded with resolve. "Ok. You're right, I will need time. But this time, I'll be trying, too."

"Good," came the satisfied response.

With small smile, Molly elbowed the Gryffindor lightly. "And I'll be glad to know that Sally Donavan be around in the future to bully some sense into me when I need it."

"Yep," Sally replied with no small amount of pride.

They shared a warm smile before making their way back towards the main section of the castle, and Molly was off to her next class with new resolve. And she may have glanced (stared) at Sherlock during the lesson a little more blatantly than normal, as well. Until about half way through, that is, when she looked over in confusion again to find him staring quite unflinchingly at her. _Crap. _She could just hear her dad taunting, "boyfriend" at her smugly.


End file.
